A Wounded Knight
by RollieZCheezKake
Summary: When Arthur gets dragged out of the ruins of London by American forces, he escapes in the forest in search of his younger brother Peter. While taking a bath he runs across a wounded knight who turns out to be Alfred Jones, crown prince of the US. After saving his life they travel to the fortress together where despite Arthur's distaste of the US, he feels sparks. UsUk omegaverseAU
1. Chapter 1

Arthur awoke to the sound of screaming and crying. He was dazed and he couldn't register the panic and hysteria going on around him. He eventually found his wits and sat up slowly, drawing his legs against his chest, surprised they weren't trampled by the terrified people. He felt the ground shake and the wall behind him crack, stones falling on unlucky people who were running around looking for safety or family, or both. He heard the royal garrison shout orders of moving deeper into the ancient tunnels of their capital, however Arthur decided to stay put. He was tired of this life.

The war between England and America had been going on for the last 10 years, devastating the lives of the millions of people who lived in either country. At first, the war was going well for England, backing the US into a corner and almost defeating them within a fortnight. However, after the king's death, power hungry nobles began to fight among themselves, underestimating the resiliency of the Americans. Before a new king could be crowned, the US had formed a powerful alliance between England's enemies, surrounding the little island on all sides. Now for the last 8 years, Britain has been fighting an uphill battle with no king and no moral, all nobles fleeing the country to join the American alliance.

Arthur wasn't one to complain, everyone had a sob story in times of war.

Arthur remembered the day his small village was attacked on the coast of the country by the French, who were allied with the Americans. It was his 10th birthday. He watched as his small beautiful coastal home burned to the ground as people on horseback hacked anyone who they came across down. He remembered crying into his mother's shoulder while his father and older brothers got the horses calm enough to escape. They rode for a fortnight before they reached the next town, only to discover that the local feudal lord had abandoned his position and had allied with the enemy. Arthur's father, a retired knight from the royal militia, quickly gained followers and organized a resistance group to help fight off the American forces. The resistance group became popular quickly and every town and village had a small militia ready to defend themselves against the enemy.

However, after three short years, a traitor had given the Americans information that lead to the eventual assassination of Arthur's father. Arthur wasn't present through any of it though. A week after Arthur's father had organized the resistance group, Arthur was sent to capital city with his mother and younger brother, Peter. When they first arrived in the city, they stayed at an inn for a couple of nights. Arthur's mother couldn't find work in the over populated city of London, leaving the three of them on the street by the second week. It was hard, the city's population grew and the streets were getting dirtier and dirtier each week, causing his mother to get sick. Though, despite her illness, she still found ways to feed her family. She would often beg for scraps at the doorsteps of the wealthy, and during desperate times, she would steal. She was eventually caught one day and jailed, leaving Arthur and Peter to fend for themselves. Arthur was 12 at the time, and Peter was 8.

Arthur only heard of the death of his father 1 year after he and Peter were sold as slaves to a wealthy merchant to work as butlers and valets. Arthur remembered the cooks crying about how the war was lost, how the only thing keeping Britain alive was the effort of the militia. But with the leader dead, the cooks believed, the militia network would crumble. They were right, of course, they always were. The American forces broke through what little defenses the English had in matter of weeks, taking the city of London under siege. The people of the city were dying of starvation soon enough, revolts and riots came soon after. The merchant Arthur worked for eventually signed a treaty with the Americans, who temporarily left the small island of England. Arthur felt safe for the first time in years.

That safety, like everything else in Arthur's life, was temporary. A mysterious illness the cooks referred to as the grey death swept through England, killing what few friends the Englishman had made. That included his kind master, leaving Arthur, Peter, and many other workers out on the streets without work. The plague spread particularly fast in the city, wiping out the homeless population first before taking out the rest. To this day, Arthur still couldn't believe he and his brother's luck for surviving as long as they did out there, cold and alone. Arthur took care of Peter every day, the best he could.

You see, Peter had some... problems.

He could barely speak and his left foot was clubbed, making movement for him difficult and painful. While working as butlers, Arthur usually did most of Peter's work to prevent his brother from feeling a pain a 12-year-old shouldn't have to experience. But out in the streets in the middle of winter, Arthur was close to death when it happened.

The Americans returned.

They wanted a tribute the English couldn't afford to give, especially when the plague was just beginning to let up. The Americans weren't as merciful as they were last time, and they began fighting with new technology no Englishman had ever seen before. Gunpowder and muskets, the Americans used, instead of swords and shields like the British. They sieged the city of London again. Breaking down the stone walls with the improved canons they developed, in which the cannonballs exploded on impact. When the walls were breached, the people were forced underground. Whenever the Americans got close to the poor settlements the brits had made in the ancient tunnels of the country, the people had to move farther in.

Arthur knew not what happened to the other people of Britain, hopefully their fates better than this. Being closed in underground lead to starvation and insanity for most people, including what was left of the royal garrison. Arthur didn't blame them though, three years of living underground surviving off of insects and rotting meat would do that to you. Arthur was sane though, as long as he had his brother with him, he could manage with what he got. But that content only got him in trouble with the kids his age. They stole what little food Arthur was given and ate it. They beat Arthur whenever they got the chance, and they made his life a living hell. Arthur's wiry figure was bruised and swollen every night for the next year, all the while explosions and drills were heard from above them. The Americans were close.

The Americans were here.

Now Arthur sat, with his knees against his chest quietly humming to his younger brother what little he remembered from the lullaby their mother used to sing to them. Peter was crying silently as he cuddled against his brother in fear, knowing this was the end. Arthur was too weak to carry the younger any farther than this, his body weak from malnutrition and abuse. Arthur had enough energy to go himself, but he would never leave his world behind. The ground shook again and the cries of the British ceased as they went further into the tunnels, leaving the dead and weak behind. Arthur closed his eyes and embraced his brother for what felt like the last time before another explosion sounded, making a gaping hole on the side of the tunnel. Arthur heard shouting and marching before he felt cold hands grabbing and tearing him away from his brother. He pleaded and begged for mercy, for the Americans to not kill his younger brother, for them to kill him instead. He was blindfolded and thrown over a soldier's shoulder, all the while thrashing about, suddenly finding his will to live. It was too late for that now, the brit thought sourly.

After an hour hike up the tunnels, Arthur felt... dry. It was awfully humid down underground, and Arthur was always moist down there. The hike up to the surface exposed him to frigid air currents, ones he hadn't realized he had missed so much. From the sound of Horses, Arthur came to the conclusion that he was outside once again, for the first time in 4 years. He started to cry, startling the soldier who was carrying him. Before the brit could apologize, he was thrown roughly onto a hard flat surface, next to something that smelled like rotting meat. It didn't faze the brit, but it made him uncomfortable being this close to a dead animal. Or person. The brit screamed at the thought and demanded to know what was next to him. He only received yells and curses back, a few smacks, but nothing he wasn't used to.

"Where's my brother, you murderers!?" the brit spat, raising his hands up to pull of his blindfold. The surface he was on began to move and the sound of horses cantering made him conclude that he was on a cart or something. Who knows what the Americans came up with nowadays. Before the brit could unwrap his blindfold, a strong force knocked the air out of his chest and tied his hands together.

"No peeking" the American sneered. Giving Arthur another hard punch to the gut, the American finally answered his question. "Your brother is the one with the fucked up foot, right? Well, since he's deformed he was given the flower cart to enjoy while we bring you to your deaths. You, since your healthy" the American paused, "somewhat" he continued. "You were given the nasty hunting cart. Why? Cause unlike your brother, you don't behave" the American sneered, grabbing the brit by his dreary locks.

"Unhand me!" the Brit growled

"What's your name?"

"...Arthur..."

"My name's Kev, and I'm taking you and your mutant brother to meet the king of the USA"

"The King of the USA? The hell is he doing so far from home?"

"That's none of your business. Now, sweet dreams buttercups!" before the brit could argue about the nickname, he felt a hard blow connect to the side of his jaw. He groaned in pain as he turned to his side. "You still awake? Tougher than you look, I'll give you that!" the American sneered as he punched the brit, still not succeeding. Tears burned the corners of the Englishman's eyes as the American kept beating his face. By the 10th punch, the Englishman finally gave out and lost consciousness.

* * *

Arthur woke up sometime later, in a daze. He could hear the soft canter of the horse pulling his wagon, and he could smell the distinct odor of all apples. It's been a while since he smelled anything so sweet, so despite the rotting meat surrounding him, he felt his stomach grumble with want. He looked up and noticed it was still night time, which Arthur thought was for the best. He didn't want to imagine how badly his body would react to the sudden exposure to the sun. Arthur, being accustomed to the dark, could see fairly well, and quickly figured out where the sweet smell was coming from. The trees on either side of the dirt path the horse was taking were harboring ripe, large apples.

For the past few years, the only food the malnourished Brit was eating were shriveled and moldy. Seeing healthy apples like the ones he was seeing now made his heart ache to retrieve one. That's when Arthur's head started working. The cart was moving fairly slow, and the Britt had hope that he could get an apple and return to the cart without being detected.

Arthur looked towards the front of the wagon and saw two Americans having a conversation. One of them had the reins in their hands, and the other had a map. Arthur then looked for the smallest apple he could find, needing a short one so he could quickly pack a juicy Apple and return. A few minutes passed before Arthur became impatient. He didn't want to miss his chance, considering, according to the American, he was going to his death. He got in a crouching position and slowly crept his way to the end of the cart. He turned back to see the two guards still chatting, filling the Brit with hope.

He leaped out of the wagon with ease, attracting no attention to himself. He quickly ran to the closet tree and looked up to find an Apple he wanted. He found a ruby red apple right on the lowest branch, which was at least 4 feet out of Arthur's reach. Arthur turned back to see the wagon was still insight, and the two guards hadn't noticed his disappearance. Arthur could have kept walking, if he wanted. And he did, but he was separated from Peter, and the only place he was certain he would find Peter was at the castle of the Americans. He turned his attention back to the tree, and decided the best way to get the apple was to climb. After a few tries, Arthur finally got a grip on the apple. He plucked it quickly, and jumped to the ground, landing with a soft thud.

He sprinted as silently as he could and reached the back of the wagon. After debating for a while, he placed the apple in his pants and crept onto the wagon again. As he got settled, he snickered a little at his success, proud of himself for pulling it off. His laugh drew the attention of one of the guards and both turned to face him.

"What's so funny, you filthy Brit?" The one named Kevin said, giving Arthur a shit eating grin. When the Brit didn't answer, the a American spoke again. "if you don't tell me, I'll come back there and show you how an omega like you should behave!" Arthur winced at the threat.

He was used to being threatened, but the fact that the American brought up his omega status made him feel scared. Underground, he was harassed constantly. Alphas and betas always tried to woo him, and when he refused, they would force themselves on him, sometimes alone, sometimes in a group. It never got as far as rape, but it got really close. Arthur shook his head, trying to shake the memory away, but it just wouldn't.

Arthur walked towards his temporary home with that week's rations he and Peter were going to share. His home was made of a few sticks and the shredded remains of curtain he managed to grab before going underground. He was about 5 minutes away he was grabbed by the shoulder and pulled into a tiny tunnel branching off of the main one he was on. He was slammed against the rocky wall and was pinned by a hairy arm. Arthur looked up to see a man who looked about twice his age. The Brit could smell the pheromones the other was giving off, he was in heat.

Alarms went off in Arthur's head as he tried to escape, but the Alpha growled threateningly, causing the Brit to shrink back. The Alpha tried to convince Arthur to be his mate, promising to keep him safe and feed him and his brother. Arthur remained quiet the entire time, looking for a way out. When the alpha finished, Arthur told him that he was not interested, and that he had to go home. The look on that man face surprised Arthur because it wasn't angry or desperate, but instead, happy. Suddenly multiple figures filed into the tunnel, Alpha and beta men and women soon surrounding the pair.

Before the Brit could question them, the First alpha hit him across the face, causing him to fall. He landed with a thud, but before he could even think of getting up, his arms and legs were being held down. He felt hands tearing at his clothes and tongues licking his body. Chapped lips enveloped his, and he had lost the ability to scream. He felt a man's hand on his waist, and he watched in horror as he tugged down his underwear. A woman came into view enough for the Brit to see her face, and he realized it was the girl who he had rejected last week. When he looked up to the men who were pinning him on the ground, he found that they too were rejected by him in the past month.

Suddenly, Arthur felt something hard poke him near his entrance. He cried out and shook, trying to get the invasive object away, but it was no use.

A few minutes had passed and the Brit was beginning to feel light headed. He whimpered mercy but none paid him any mind. Arthur's arms were pinned above his head this time, and he was forced to stick his ass into the throat was dry, and the tears leaving his eyes made the dirt his face was resting on muddy. He felt something warm trickle down his legs, and when he turned, he saw that it was blood.

He was beginning to lose consciousness when he heard a whip crack in the air. Everyone stopped their administrations and backed away from the violated omega. Arthur curled up into a ball and waited for his attackers to leave.

After a few minutes, he felt a cold hand grasp his shoulder as a blanket was wrapped around him. The Brit refused to open his eyes as his savior pulled him into his arms and reached for the Brits nether regions. The Brit was about to cry out again, thinking that he was going to be attacked again, but instead he felt the man grab the stick that was still wedged in his cavern. Arthur buried his face into the strangers chest, as he felt the jagged piece of wood be pulled out swiftly, inciting a lewd whine from the Brit.

The officer paused for a moment, probably weighing his options. Arthur could smell the distinctive pheromones on the officer, but he wasn't really surprised, most people mate this time of year. As the moments turned to minutes, Arthur braced himself for another attack, but fortunately, the man lifted him and what was left of his rations up and delivered him to his house. He laid Arthur in his bed and took upon himself to take care of Peter for the night. Village midwives who had heard of the assault came to his house to patch him up as best they could, pitying the Brit immensely. He was catered to for about 2 days before they went on with there lives.

Arthur taught himself to push back memories, but every now and then one would resurface. He found himself staring blankly at the guard before he apologized quickly. The brit had to think of something funny quick to toss whatever suspicion the Americans had about him. "I was just thinking of this old joke that my friend told me a while back" the brit lied, which probably made things worse. He should've stayed silent, because the next question caught the brit off guard completely.

"What was it?" Kevin asked.

"What?"

"What was the joke? How did it go?" the other American asked with a soft smile. "My name's Dennis, by the way."

Arthur stared comically at the Americans, like a deer caught in headlights. Before Arthur could think of anything, Dennis began to laugh, earning looks of confusion from both the brit and Kevin. "What's so funny?" Kevin asked with a pout, causing Dennis to laugh even louder.

"Arthur, did you hear our conversation? That's what you were laughing at huh?" the laughing American asked with tears in his eyes. Arthur only shook his head in response. Dennis turned back in time to see the brit shake his head, and he laughed again. "Alright, then I'll tell you!"

"NO!"  
"YES!" Dennis yelled back to his fellow guardsmen. Arthur eyed the situation and frowned, losing interest quickly. He decided to play along though, whatever it took to thwart their suspicion. Arthur cleared his throat to get the guard's attention, and when he did, he looked up expectantly. Dennis smile softly again, and began to tell the story of how they were put on 'Brit Duty'.

"We were originally guards of the American fortress here on this island of Britain, but we were transferred after we saw something we shouldn't have seen." Dennis began, looking at Arthur just in time to see the curiosity in his eyes. Dennis cleared his throat and pulled over to the side of the rode. "We'll make camp here, and then when we're settled, I'll continue." The American explained.

After a few moments of walking on the deep under growth of the forest, they came across a clearing that seemed suitable and safe to spend the night. Kevin taught Arthur how to start a fire, and Dennis taught Arthur how to season stew and to collect water. To the brit's amazement, the American's were acting half decent. There were a couple derogatory statements from Kevin every now and then, but Arthur soon found himself feeling at ease for the first time in five years. When everybody had a bowl with some stew in it, they huddled around the fire and waited for Dennis to continue the story.

"Shall I carry on?" Dennis asked. When he received nods, he smiled and began again. "Kevin and I were guarding the fortress when we heard a noise coming from within the stone walls" he paused for a second, before sighing and starting again. "We heard something within the fortress, it sounded like the scream of a woman in need, so of course we investigated." he said with a shrug. Then Kevin spoke up and continued.

"We went up the stairs looking for the noise, and when we got to the bedroom of the king, we paused, thinking we had made a mistake-"

"It wasn't a mistake though" interrupted Dennis, who had grabbed another spoonful of stew. Kevin rolled his eyes and nodded.

"We thought it was a mistake at the time though. The King isn't the nicest man, the guards know he is unfaithful and sometimes abusive, but we keep it to ourselves. We wouldn't want the princes finding out, too much drama" he said with a sad sigh. He shook his head, and Dennis cleared his throat again.

"We were about to turn back when we heard another shriek coming from the room. Than we heard the King's voice, telling the girl to "Shut the hell up." We hesitated of course, because we knew better not to interfere, but then we heard the woman crying out for assistance. We say woman because it didn't sound like the queen, it was probably another mistress." Dennis said as he slurped his spoon. Arthur listened intensely, finding the story intriguing. Kevin noticed the Brit's enthusiasm, and halted Dennis's speech.

"I don't think we should be spreading rumors to the enemy" the rude American said loudly, catching the others off guard. The Englishman frowned deeply before looking at Dennis, who had a sympathetic smile on. Dennis looked back at his partner and nodded an apology.

"Maybe your right-"

"NO! I'm going to my death anyway so why not tell me!" the brit pleaded, he was so bored, he at least deserved some gossip. However, the look of disbelief on Dennis' face confused the brit. Then, the American began to laugh.

"You aren't going to die! Why do you think you're going to die?!" Dennis chuckled through his teeth as he spoke. Arthur looked at the Americans incredulously before speaking.

"Kevin told me that I was riding to my death. And why else would Americans want to blast holes in the underground tunnels to retrieve us?! You guys are planning to wipe the English out, right?!" tears were stinging his eyes in disbelief. The British have been living in fear of death by the hands of the American for no reason if what Dennis was saying were true. Dennis, after hitting Kevin over the head with his bowl, gave Arthur another soft smile and tried to explain.

"Not many Americans are willing to work in the Fortress here on this island, so the brit we manage to capture will work as farmhands and servants. The war was won when we invaded the city of London, we just followed you underground to make you swear allegiance to the American king. You are going to act as a servant in the fortress, nothing more, nothing less."

Arthur was still baffled by this information, but tried to keep a level head. "Alright" he muttered. "What about Peter, my brother?" Arthur asked hopefully. Dennis gave him a sympathetic look before answering.

"I don't know, really. But considering he has a disability, and could serve no purpose to the fortress, he may be returned to the tunnels, or be left to die of exposure."

"Oh God No" the brit whispered to himself. Kevin saw the distress on the brit's face and laughed.

"If you ask me, I think we should have let the English rot in their fucking tunnels, am I right!" he nudged Dennis with his elbow for a response, but the only thing he got was another blow to the head.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur's eyes remained fixed on the ground, processing the new information. Of all the thoughts bouncing around in his head, one thing was certain, Peter was going die. Arthur felt tears escape his eyes and trickle down his face in frustration with his failure. What failure you ask, the failure to keep the promise he made to his mother before she was arrested.

 _Arthur's 12th birthday had just passed, and he and his small family was celebrating with make shift decorations and a stale loaf of bread. It was a long time since Arthur had a decent birthday, so the loaf of bread was a luxury to him, and he treated as a blessing. Before he and Peter dug into the loaf, his mother flicked them both and scolded them about saying grace before every meal. They complied quickly, making a rushed prayer and a quick salute to god. A few hours later, after they had savored every bite of bread, Arthur's mother pulled him aside and whispered softly into his ear._

 _"Promise mummy that you'll look after Peter" she said with desperation in her eyes. Arthur was confused by her pleading look, but he promised anyway. She gave him a quick kiss on the head, and they made their way back to the alley they resided in. Arthur fell asleep in her arms next to his brother, expecting her to be there when he woke up. But in the morning, when she wasn't wrapped protectively around her sons, Arthur instead found her being dragged away screaming by guards, accusing her of theft. Arthur made brief eye contact with her as she was hauled away, the message in her eyes clear._

 _They were never going to see each other again._

Arthur felt his body shake at the memory, and the Americans noticed too. Dennis felt guilty for blurting out what he said, but Kevin kept on a smug smile. Dennis sighed heavily, trying to drag the brit out of his feelings. "I really don't know what would happen to your brother! I was just talking stupid; I don't even know why I said that!" Dennis chuckled, eyeing the Englishman. This did little to soothe the brit, who actually felt a bit offended at Dennis's laugh. Why was he always laughing!

Kevin was really enjoying the emotional pain Arthur was going through, and he couldn't resist the urge to taunt. "I lost a brother too, you know, to you filthy brits. I'm just so glad that I get to play a hand in your brother's death. I wonder what they'll do... will they leave him outside? It's awfully chilly in November, especially at night. He'll die in fear and regret, in fear of death and his inevitable place in hell, and he'll regret ever relying on you in the first place." Kevin watched in satisfaction as the brit's expression became even more pained.

Arthur feared that Kevin was right. Peter would have a slow, agonizing death, and Arthur couldn't do a thing to stop it. Arthur fell to his side and instantly got into a fetal position, opting to sleep, or pretend to sleep as long as the conversation ended. The brit felt an undying hatred sprout in his heart towards Kevin, an animosity he doubts would ever go away. He heard Dennis swear at his friend and a hard thud, shortly followed by a whine of pain. The Englishman heard Dennis tell Kevin that he was taking the first watch, to which Kevin was happy to hear.

Arthur felt his eyes get heavy with emotion, and he soon found himself succumbing to sleep. But at the same time, his mind was racing, racing for a solution to his problem. It took Arthur a few hours to actually sleep, satisfied with what he was able to formulate in such short notice.

~~~~~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~~~~~

It was dawn when Arthur was rudely awoken by Kevin and hauled over to the cart. There was something different about Arthur's resolve; it was less jittery and more confident. It appears the young Brit had an epiphany that night, or had a spectacular idea that withdrew him from his depression. He was given a few fresh apples for breakfast from Dennis, which he ate silently. He suddenly remembered the apple that was still in his pants, unsure of how he even slept without squashing it. He figured he might as well keep it there, who knows when it might come in handy.

The sky was still a little dark, the sun leaving the sky a little rosey in color. When the wagon had started to move, Arthur evaluated his plan. What plan? The plan he had made to escape and find Peter, but first, he needed to get to the fortress. Arthur cleared his throat before starting conversation. "Dennis? When are we getting to the fortress?" He asked softly, portraying indifference in his voice, sounding too eager would incite suspicion. Dennis hummed lightly as he looked at the sky for a moment.

"About four days at least"

What! Four days, that gonna fuck up his plan completely. Well, thank goodness the Brit made a plan b. Arthur snuggled into the blanket Dennis had given to him and pretended to sleep. After a few hours of traveling, the sun had finally decided to go down, leaving the Brit happy. He didn't feel ready to feel the sun head on, not yet. When the cover of night shrouded the cart, Arthur felt confident of his new plan. He was annoyed of the Americans constant chatter though, but at least he got to hear the ending of the story. And Arthur's interpretation went a little like this:

. Dennis and Kevin keeping watch

. Dennis and Kevin hear a yell and go to investigate

. Dennis and Kevin hear the noise again, coming from the king's chamber

. They bust into the room to see a bunch of unconscious women and a woman who was being beaten by the king

. Woman runs to Dennis and Kevin for protection

. Dennis and Kevin interrogate the king, who fires them on the spot

. They argue about how they signed a contract and that their service cannot be relieved

. The king kills the woman, and puts the two guards on Brit duty

After hearing the story, Arthur realized how crazy Dennis actually was. To think he thought Dennis was a decent guy. This story was hardly funny, so the constant chuckling from him was disturbing. Dennis gave the impression of the story being light hearted, being all smiley about it when he tried to tell to me. Arthur was beginning to regret not actually sleeping. This worrying new realization only fueled Arthur's eagerness to escape as soon as possible.

A few minutes had passed when Arthur's saw his opening, the dry brittle grass turning into muddy ground. He don't want to sneak off when there was dry grass on the ground, afraid of being heard and getting caught. However, when they the started getting closer to the fens, the land got softer, and the wildlife got denser, giving the Brit the perfect opening. He poised himself in a crouching position and waddled towards the opening of the wagon, just like he did last time when he retrieved the apple. He turned back to see if the Americans were still chatting, they weren't, but they still weren't facing his direction. It was a go.

He landed on the soft earth with an inaudible thud, turning around just to be safe. They didn't seem to notice, so he made a break for it towards the forest and off of the road. As he marched through the under growth of the forest, he found it tedious to be stepping so carefully. After he felt he was safe and far enough away, only then did he walk normally. The adrenalin pumping through the Brit's blood kept his pace fast, and he moved skillfully in between thick brambles and dead trees that had fallen long ago. But most importantly, he moved with purpose. He had overheard the American idiots talk about the trail the other cart was using, somewhere in the east. He thought nothing of it when he heard it at the time, but last night, when he was thinking of a series of plans, the information seemed vital.

After what felt like forever, the sun was high in the sky, but thankfully, the thick canopy of the Forrest he was in blocked almost all of it out. Arthur didn't really know why he was avoiding the sun so feverishly, but he went along with his subconscious. There was a smile on his face anyway, still basking in the smell of freedom. The Forrest had this interesting scent, a mixture of various fruits and mosses. The smell was intoxicating, and Arthur found himself falling in love with it. He found a stream in front of him, and kneeled before it to wash himself. After glancing at himself, he flinched.

"Jesus, I look horrid!" His face was bruised, most definitely due to the punches the American asshole had landed on him. He had dirty cheeks, and muddy hair. He was pretty sure his hair was still blonde, but the lack of a proper mirror had always left it as just a hunch. The Brit opted to take a bath, knowing it was cold this time of year didn't make a difference. He deserved this. He peeled off his muddy clothes and slowly lowered himself into the water, breathing shakily as the cool water swallowed more and more of his body. He pulled his dirty clothes into the water to clean them, not wanting to wear dirty clothes. He doubted they would be ready in time, but nevertheless, when he was done he wrung the water out and placed them on the bank of the stream to dry.

After about 15 minutes of relaxation, Arthur had a bad feeling pooling in his gut. The sensation was out of nowhere, and the brit knew he had to leave then and there. He placed both hands on the bank, ready to pull himself out when suddenly he heard a hard crash nearby. Shit! He wrapped himself in the blanket he stole from his captors and collected his clothes. He heard another clang, the sound of metal bumping into things, and it was coming closer. He heard heavy breathing, and coughing, and Arthur, despite his internal protest, was transfixed in his spot, staring with wide eyes at the looming shadow coming his way. The wind blew harshly, moving the branches enough for light to shine through, landing directly on the unknown figure. Arthur gasped as he saw an armored hand grab the trunk of the tree before the rest of the stranger's body leaned against it.

Arthur stared at the Knight, disappointed to see the royal seal of the United States on his surcoat. The knight slid to the floor with a painful groan and a loud clash, startling the brit from his stupor. The brit was conflicted. Does he leave him, or does he help? The knight looked to be in a critical condition, and if someone didn't remove the armor and see to his wounds, he wouldn't have long. But he was the enemy, and by the look of his fancy suit of armor, he was an important enemy. Letting him die could probably aid whatever English efforts were left. But doing that would be wrong, and letting someone die would never sit well with his subconscious. But he spent the entire war doing nothing, this could be his moment to do something meaningful. But Dennis's words rang in his ears.

The war was over.

Arthur grumbled something indecent before rushing to the American's aid. He pulled off the American's helmet first, wanting to check if the American was awake, or alive even. He was met with the most beautiful blue he had ever seen; it was such a shame that they were glassy and losing focus by the second. He saw the knight's lip move, as if trying to speak, but nothing was coming out, besides blood of course. The warm liquid reminded the Brit of the task at hand. He removed the rest of the armor as best he could, nut he had a little trouble with the breast plate. "Shit, how the hell do I do this!" he grunted. He flipped the American over and saw some fastenings. It took Arthur a moment to undo them and pull off the metal piece.

"Alright, what do I do now, Mr. Knight?" Arthur peeled the blood soaked shirt the American wore off, grimacing at the damage that was done to him. There were several deep gashes on the soldier's torso, oozing blood faster than Arthur could react. Arthur ran back to the bank of the stream, grabbing his freshly washed shirt and dampening it, and returning to the American to clean some of the wounds. As he applied pressure and dabbed the first wound clean, the American cried out in pain, shaking and cursing. Arthur kept apologizing, trying to think of some way to calm the American down. Maybe conversing would take his mind off of the pain.

"Who are you? What happened?" the Brit asked calmly, glancing at the American's face. The knight's eyes widened, and again tried to scramble away again. Why? The Brit didn't know. Arthur sighed in frustration, put held in his annoyance since he was on the last gash. He had torn parts of the American's shirt into thin strips of cloth he could use to cover the wounds he cleaned. He needed to find help. When he wrapped the last wound, the Englishman sat on the ground besides the panting patient. Arthur did an amateur job at treating the wounds, and he knew they would start bleeding once more eventually. He needed a professional, or at least better supplies. Arthur hadn't noticed the piercing blue eyes that were tracing his body warily.

"Who are you?" the Brit jumped a little, completely startled by the deep, commanding tone the knight used on him. Arthur whimpered silently, before shaking his head wildly. What the fuck? No, he asked the stranger first!

"Not until you tell me who you are first. Or at least how you were injured so badly." The Brit said calmly, looking at the palms of his hands. His heart was racing and his cheeks were heating up; he was nervous and he didn't know why. Was it because he didn't obey the knight's order? He didn't have to oblige to anyone's wishes, especially an American's. The American in question just rolled his eyes and frowned, before speaking.

"I was hunting for some boar with my father when we were ambushed," he deadpanned, not meeting the Brit in the eye. "By the British." He added with a sneer. Alfred sat up with a hiss and placed his back on the trunk of the tree behind him, gazing intently at his savior. Arthur felt the stranger's hot gaze on his skin, searing the hair on his arms. It actually hurt, a lot.

"Ow!" the Brit hissed, looking at a now red patch of skin. "What the hell!?" he asked quietly, but still loud enough for the American to hear. The American studied him harder, before finally noticing the new burn on the Englishman's arm. The American hummed in realization, catching the Brit's attention.

"What?" the Brit asked timidly. The blush was still staining his cheek, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he opted to hide it. He lifted the warm blanket up little higher so that it covered a bit of his face. Consequently, it revealed more of the Englishman's thighs to the stranger, who had noticed. He hummed again, but more in frustration than anything else. "What?!" the Brit asked again, a rare emotion in his voice. Alfred cleared his throat before speaking.

"Do the British always walk around with nothing but a blanket, or is that just you?" he asked, his mocking tone infuriating him.

"HOW... dare you!" the Brit began to yell but lowered his voice after receiving a look from the knight. Arthur cleared his throat began again. "The reason why I'm naked is because I was in the middle of a bath when you crashed into the bloody clearing, you bastard! And the reason I'm still naked is because I used my shirt to tend to your bloody bleeding wounds!" he huffed and turned away, face red with rage, continuing his rant. "I swear! every American I meet is a douche or crazy!"

"You've met more Americans?" the stranger asked, portraying no emotion. Arthur nodded in response, not wanting to speak to the rude stranger. "Who were they?" Arthur quirked an eyebrow before shrugging. Arthur felt the heat of the other's gaze on him, and it made him shiver. Suddenly, a warm hand was on his shoulder, causing the Englishman to turn around in shock. He was met with the deep blue eyes of the stranger, unable to move or speak. The American moved his hand shakily to the Brit's face and pulling him in closer to his, a deep blush gracing the Brit's cheeks. Arthur wasn't afraid though, not yet at least.

"Who were they?" the American repeated, a smirk playing on his lips. Arthur caught the look, and was infuriated all over again. Thinks he could pull a fast one, huh? The knight's face was met with a hard slap, the hardest the Brit could muster. His hand stung, and the echoing of the slap was reverberating through the forest.

The American was now on the ground cradling his cheek. He swore obscenities and huffed angrily before asking. "DO YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK I AM?!" Arthur rolled his eyes at the question before snapping.

"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! EVERY TIME I FUCKING ASK YOU, YOU SAY SOME BULLSHIT. ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS HELP YOU, BUT YOU ARE SO FUCKING INSUFFERABLE! SO PLEASE! ENLIGHTEN ME! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" he yelled, darting grass at the stranger, who didn't need to move because the grass went everywhere. Alfred growled angrily before barking at him.

"I'm Alfred fucking Jones, the crowned prince of America."

* * *

Arthur stared blankly at the American before actually understanding. The crown prince? Alfred noticed the shock on the brit's face, and smiled. He tried to stand up, but the burning pain in his torso caused him to fall flat on his butt. Arthur finally got a hold of his thoughts and swallowed harshly.

"I-I... should have let you die" the brit blurted out before he knew it, throwing his hands over his mouth in disbelief. He gave the American a mortified look, before looking down at his lap, tears streaming down his face. The American was thoroughly confused, and a tad bit hurt. Alfred crawled slowly towards his companion, humming so his presence would be known, the last thing he wanted was to sneak up on him. Arthur looked at the prince and whimpered, the guilt evident in his eyes. He was soon a mere 3 inches away from the other.

The brit pursed his lips before speaking shallowly. "My name is Arthur, Arthur Kirkland."

Arthur eyed the prince as his eyes shot open. Alfred started to move his lips, but nothing was coming out. Arthur found it interesting that a last name was all it took to shut the American up. eventually, the prince found his voice, and began shooting a series of questions at the Englishman.

"Kirkland? Like resistance group leader Kirkland? I thought you were wiped out!" he yelled, scaring a few birds out of the nearby trees and the squirrels to climb up some. Arthur flinched too, eyes widening in realization of what he had just done. Did he just commit suicide? There was no way the prince would have mercy on him now, slapping him and worse, being related to one of the most powerful men in England. His father was dead, but his brothers were assassinated just in case the position was hereditary. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to be hanged. He squeezed the prince's hand and nodded.

Alfred gazed at the man in front of him; a pale scrawny man with sun blonde hair and the most dazzling green eyes he had ever seen; they were like emeralds. He smiled fondly and nodded at Arthur trying to soothe him his worry. "Is that why you want to kill me?" the American asked suddenly. Arthur looked taken aback by the question, as if Alfred had crossed the line, but he just gave the brit an expectant look.

The look Alfred gave Arthur made him cave in. Damnit, Arthur was tired of being all difficult and stuff, so he just told the American the truth. "I don't want to kill you; I would never kill anyone. I don't have it in me." He sighed, eyes locking with the man in front of him.

Alfred gave him a skeptical look before asking another question. "But you regret saving me, right?" Arthur looked down and gasped, the wrapping on the American's wounds were dripping with blood. Arthur shook his head and stood up suddenly, taking Alfred's hand. Arthur helped the crown prince up, apologizing when the American hissed and cursed in pain. With the other's arm swung around his shoulder, the brit made his way towards the direction the American came from.

"Why are we going there?" he asked, putting most of his weight on his companion. Arthur glanced up at him before looking back to where he was stepping.

"You came on a horse, right? My understanding is that your fortress is four days away by wagon, so you took some sort of transportation, yes?" Arthur asked. The prince was baffled by the brit's conclusion, but nodded anyway.

"There should also be some clothes there too. Something is bound to fit well enough." Arthur hummed in agreement and kept walking, placing an arm around the other's waist hesitantly. The other didn't protest, but Arthur noticed the other frown.

"Does it bother you if I put my arm there? I just wanted to keep you steady is all." Arthur huffed, removing his arm from around the prince. Alfred snorted, but spoke up anyway.

"I don't have a problem with that, but I do have a problem that you know where my fortress is. Did the Americans you mentioned earlier tell you? What were their names?" Alfred growled into the smaller one's ear, inciting a gasp from the brit. Arthur was silent for a moment, but decided he had nothing to lose.

"The Americans I met kidnapped me and my brother from the tunnels and separated us. One was named Kevin, and he was a complete bastard! He punched me and insulted me and... Dennis was nice at first, but it didn't take me a while to realize that he was insane. He thought the story of- "Arthur paused, looking at the American in shock. The words Kevin told him resonated loudly throughout his body.

We wouldn't want the princes finding out...

"His mother dying was funny." Arthur continued, looking straight ahead. "He also told me that my brother would be left to die of exposure because of his disability, which is why I escaped, trying to find my brother before he was killed." Arthur concluded. He didn't want to mention his brother being in the opposite direction, it would only make him want to hurl what little food remained in his stomach.

"Dennis and Kevin... they were taking you to my fortress then, right?" Alfred asked his companion, whose arm wrapped around him once more. The Englishman shrugged his shoulders, not knowing for sure.

"Is your fortress 4 days away?"

"Yes"

"Then yes." The brit answered, his annoyance clear. Alfred hummed, for the umpteenth time since they've met, Arthur noted. He wanted to question him about it, but than it might make the prince hostile towards him again, so he decided not to. Arthur had more important questions to ask. "How far away is the fortress on horseback?" the brit figured it was a four-day journey on a heavy wagon, but much quicker with only two people.

"If we take the best horse, my father's, then maybe a day and a half? Two and a half tops." The American said dryly. More of his weight shifted onto the small Englishman, a sign of his worsening condition.

"How far away is your campsite?" the frail teen squeaked, the pressure taking most of his strength. Alfred hummed again, but did not answer, only barely moving his legs enough to keep up with the brit's pace. Arthur just took that as an I don't know, and kept walking, hoping he was going the right way.

~~~~~~~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~~~~~~

After a few hours of walking without instruction, or light when the sun went down, Arthur had finally stumbled upon the royal campsite he was looking for. He couldn't say he was impressed.

The tents were torn, food was scattered, and dead bodies littered the place; it wasn't exactly inviting. However, Arthur wasn't looking for somewhere cozy to stay the night, he was looking for supplies to help the dead weight that he was carrying. Alfred had passed out from blood loss about half an hour ago, leaving the brit to lug a man twice his size. The journey, despite its difficulty, remained uneventful.

Arthur laid Alfred down near a few dead bodies to go looking for some medical supplies. He raided what was left of the tents, losing hope after seeing that one after the other had been ransacked and looted. He found a spool of thread and a needle, which would be useful for sealing the wounds, but he needed to clean the wounds first, and he found nothing to do that. Desperate, Arthur began foraging around the area of the camp, praying that one of the attackers had left something useful he could use. He found some fancy purple pants and a pearly white top, some money, and a dagger.

"SHIT!" Arthur yelled, letting his frustration out. He was so fucking useless; Alfred was going to die if he couldn't think of anything! He returned to the campsite to check on his friend, who was still kicking, but unsure of how long. Arthur was losing patience, and he began to lash out on the dead bodies before him. He kicked them, he spit on them and he rolled them over so he could give them a good one to the cheek. He kicked one particularly hard, and felt something hard against his foot. A rock maybe?

He rolled the corpse of the fat man over and saw an untouched bottle of wine in his firm grip. Arthur tugged the bottle free before rushing over to Alfred, who looked to be a few minutes from death. "Okay, Okay, this is going to hurt. I'm sorry" the brit rambled as he removed the makeshift bandages. He poured wine onto the bleeding gashes and didn't stop applying pressure until the bleeding stop. He ran back to a tent to retrieve the needle and thread he foolishly left behind and sprinted back to the prince. He stitched the American as best he could, it was halfway decent if you asked him, but the blue teen had lost a lot of blood. Arthur wasn't sure he was going to make it.

Arthur returned to the forest and put on those clothes he found earlier, glad that they actually fit. He made his way to the tent that seemed the least damaged and began to tidy it up, unsure of how long they were going to stay there. Arthur foraged the entire campsite for furs and candles and put them into the tent, setting up two fur beds with fair lighting. He smiled at his handy work and returned to Alfred, carefully dragging him to the tent, being careful not to reopen his wounds. Arthur placed him on the bigger of the two beds before leaving the tent, looking for some food.

He found a wooden bowl nearby, so he started gathering fruits and nuts in it, using the dagger he found earlier to cut the high ones down. He also found a canteen of water, luckily, which he brought back to his tent. Alfred was still unconscious when he returned, but his lips were moving again. Arthur took that as a sign that he was getting better, and the brit was relieved. He brought the canteen to the prince's lips and poured a little down his throat. Alfred needed to replenish his liquids, so Arthur wasn't going to drink any of the water. It was for the prince.

Arthur suddenly found himself exhausted, but he didn't feel comfortable sleeping with no one out there to watch. Alfred was in a coma and all he had was a dagger, which he barely knew how to use. What if the attackers came back? They would be slaughtered like cattle. Arthur groaned as the chilly night's wind began to blow. He pulled some furs over the sleeping American to keep him warm as he slept, and he wouldn't appreciate the prince dying of pneumonia after everything Arthur had been through.

"Sleep tight"

~~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~~

A few days have passed since the brit had met the Crown prince of the United States, who still refused to wake up. Arthur spent the monotony foraging and hunting for food, which he found incredibly annoying and unnecessarily difficult. He killed a rabbit by catching it in a trap and stabbing it with his dagger, using the knowledge he gained from Dennis and Kevin to make a meal. He got a fire started with ease, and he had found a little stream nearby to fill the dented pot with water. The area surrounding the clearing offered tons of vegetables and roots he could use to season the stew. His first attempt was a failure, and so was his second, but his third attempt came out decent, so he patted himself on the back.

Currently, Arthur was back in his tent to try and make the American drink more water. Most of the prince's color had returned, but he wouldn't wake up. He drank water, and sometimes, if Arthur was lucky, he could pour some warm stew into his stomach so he wouldn't starve. Usually, Arthur would grind up some fruit and mix it with the water he gave to the American so he was still getting some sort of energy. Carbohydrates Arthur called them.

So besides the boredom, Arthur was better than he had ever been since he was 10. He was fed, clothed and despite how it felt, he wasn't alone. The guilt he felt about peter was intensifying, but he was thinking of a game plan. Maybe he could deliver the prince to the fortress, and look for peter there, or should he just drop the prince off near the fortress and look for peter in the forest, just in case they turned him away already? Arthur was about to leave the tent to go climb a tree or something when he heard humming.

"A-Arthur?" a weak voice whispered. Arthur turned to see Alfred blinking wildly, arm raised, reaching vaguely in his direction.

"Alfred!" the Englishman squeaked, too happy to hide it. He ran to the other's bed side and hugged him lightly, not wanting to inflict pain. Alfred hummed in confusion before hugging the brit back, breathing in deeply. The tent was open, and the sunlight was flooding in. Arthur had gotten used to it, and didn't fear it anymore. As long as he wasn't exposed for more than a few hours he was fine, not like last time when a small ray could singe the hair off of his arms. The smell of quail eggs and roasted rabbit wafted into the tent, which reminded Arthur of what he was supposed to be doing.

"Who's out there?!" the American asked excitedly before adding. "Where are we even? Whose tent is this?" he said with a smile. Arthur grinned at the curious American and answered while making his way to the fire outside.

"No one's out there, I'm cooking. We're at your campsite, and at the moment, the tent is ours" the brit sighed. He extinguished the fire and set the fried quail eggs on a porcelain plate. Thank goodness he made more than enough eggs, the American must be starving. He returned to the tent and handed the American a plate, who took it hesitantly. He wasn't in a good mood.

"What's the matter?" Arthur said softly, handing Alfred a fork. He took it gingerly and began to eat, ignoring the other's question. He hummed in delight when he took a small spoonful, causing the brit to chuckle softly.

"This is really good Artie!" the prince moaned exuberantly, making Arthur laugh loudly. There's no way it could be that good. Alfred saw the doubt on his face, and gave him a reassuring smile. But Alfred seemed to believe so.

When the two were done eating, Arthur set the plates aside and sat beside Alfred, who hummed with content. The worried look was back on the prince's face, and Arthur felt the urge to barrage him with a ton of questions. What could he be so upset about anyway? He was asleep for five days. However, Arthur kept that all inside, and asked him one simple question.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Alfred nodded before speaking, taking a swig of water. "Yeah dude! I'm a little sore though, but I'll live" he said with a wicked grin. Arthur grinned back and pulled out a cloth with alcohol, dabbing the soft fabric in the strong wine.

"Do you mind lifting your shirt? I need to keep your wounds clean." He said with a blush. Alfred shrugged and pulled off his torn shirt, giving Arthur a view of his torso. The prince had broad shoulders and firm pecs, the taut skin shimmering with a light sheen of sweat. His abdomen was flawless, save for the stitches, and his six pack was dark and defined, probably from training in the sun. Arthur didn't realize he was staring until he heard the American hum cockily, causing him to glance up. Surely enough, the prince was grinning.

"Checking me out, Artie?"

Arthur's face burned red as he briskly cleaned of the wounds, trying his best not to linger. He cleaned these wounds about a dozen times, and he never, not even once ogled his body like this before. Was it because he was awake? Arthur cleared his throat and moved away from the American, tossing him some clothes to change into without a word. He left the room quickly and rushed down to the stream, looking at his reflection.

His skin wasn't as pale anymore, and now he was fair in pigment rather than deathly grey. His cheeks were fatter and his hair was no longer as drab as it was before, it had some volume to it. Arthur looked down at his outfit, nodding his head in approval. Today he wore green pants that were designed to grip the hips, accentuating his feminine hips. He had a puffy white top that was embroidered with lace, which he had tucked into his pants. He wore dark green knee high socks and brown leather boots that went up to his knees; they even had a little heel. To finish it off, he had this dark brown woolen shawl, one that was so thick, not even the harshest of winter winds could penetrate it.

While he was checking himself out, he pulled out his dagger, which he had stored in his boot, and began to wash the dried blood off. After a few rinses, he wasn't impressed with the shine as he was a day ago, so he decided to go back to the campsite to find some oil to rub on his blade. As he approached the clearing, a familiar bad feeling was pooling in his stomach. Alfred?

Suddenly, a blood curdling scream erupted from the back of the campsite, forcing Arthur out of his thoughts. He ran towards the sound, which remained constant and just as heart stopping. Arthur stopped just short of his destination to pull out his dagger, just in case he needed. The sight before him stopped him in his tracks, however, guilt and shock pooling in his subconscious.

Alfred was wailing, tears pouring down his face as he begged god to bring the figure in his lap back. Said figure was the fat man Arthur had taken his anger out on the day he got to the camp. It was only at this moment did he notice the dirty blond hair the dead man sported, or the blue eyes and sharp cheek bones that were so familiar to him now. Alfred shook violently and sobbed out, and Arthur couldn't watch anymore. He ran to the tent and sat on his bed, staring blankly at the empty bed beside him.

The horrible cries were haunting, but Arthur drowned them out, feeling tears escape his eyes. After half an hour, Alfred waddled into the tent with bloodshot eyes, shaking and wheezing as he spoke. "We must leave."

Arthur only nodded, not having the voice to speak to the disheartened prince. Alfred didn't see the brit nod however, and he got angry in his vulnerable state. The brit was suddenly pinned to the fur bed by the bigger man, who growled at him.

"I said we must leave! We must inform my people of the death... of the death of their King for god's sake! Don't make me repeat myself!" he sobbed, placing his head on the terrified teen's shoulder, who just nodded wildly.

After a few minutes, the prince's breathing slowed and became even, bringing the brit to the conclusion that Alfred must have been asleep. Arthur didn't have the heart to move him, not after watching him cry over his father's dead body. Arthur felt tears of guilt slide down his face as he stared at the tent ceiling, swearing to never disrespect the dead again.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur and Alfred got ready for their journey back in silence; Alfred tracking the horses, and Arthur packing supplies. The Brit packed canteens full of water for the horses and for themselves, dried rabbit meat, and some clothes. The forest was packed with fruits so good wasn't a big deal, but just in case one of them got hurt, he packed a few bottles of alcohol and the needle and thread.

Arthur, while packing, thought back to the events leading up to this. After Alfred had fallen asleep, Arthur found himself praying for forgiveness. He eventually passed out, but was rudely awoken by a hard pinch from the mourning prince. Arthur, of course begged for five more minutes, but the American threatened to leave without him, and Arthur couldn't have that. The American peeled himself away from the Brit before leaving the tent, saying he was going to find the horses. Arthur offered to help, but the crowned prince told him to "Fuck off" and "Find something to do."

Arthur was offended, but decided to keep his thoughts to himself. Alfred had just lost his father, he wasn't going to act all cheery. He nodded and removed himself from the American's presence, not wanting to upset him any further. He found two large leather satchels that he could use to carry supplies, and began to pack the essentials. He could hear Alfred whistling for the horses and calling their names, frustration obvious. Arthur bet he could do a better job than the prince, but didn't comment.

He took the last canteen down to the little stream and began to fill it. He heard some noises, like rustling in the bushes, but he just asked if was a small animal. Like a squirrel or whatever. But when that something took a hard step into the stream, Arthur saw that it wasn't a squirrel. Or anything near it, to be honest. There was a chestnut colored stallion standing before him, approaching him warily. It had blood on its back, but it didn't appear to be maimed. It must have been someone else's blood. Arthur wanted to call out to Alfred and maybe brag about how good he was at finding horses, but he feared chasing the horse away. He stepped away from the stream to give the horse a chance to drink from it while he went to alert Alfred.

He was approaching the American when he saw an even larger stallion being pet by the prince. It was neighing fondly, and they were both sitting down, making the scene before the Brit adorable. Time was wasting though, so Arthur spoke up. "There's a brown horse drinking by the stream, you know"

The prince visibly jumped, Arthur's intrusion startling him and his companion. Alfred hummed in acknowledgment, but the horse beside him neighed angrily. Arthur watched as the horse stood up, clearly bigger than the one he had found. It approach the Brit threateningly, huffing as it was about a foot away. The Englishman got the hint, his accent must have set the horse off, so he nodded curtly to the prince before returning to the camp site. The Brit had found himself dwelling in his feelings, as he continued to pack. It wasn't his fault that he was British, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He was just as nationalistic as the next guy, and he would fight for his country. The fuming Brit was dragged out if his thoughts when he noticed the brown horse trotting towards him.

It was eyeing the Brit suspiciously, neighing softly. Arthur took out an apple from one of the satchels and held it out in front of the horse, as an offering. Arthur didn't speak, afraid the horse would recognize the accent and attack him. The horse took it gingerly, crunching the apple before relaxing on the ground near the Brit. The poor thing must have been tired and famished. Arthur plopped himself next to the large horse and petted him softly, offering another apple. The horse allowed him, and it took the next apple quickly, munching on it slower this time.

It felt like a while since Arthur had touched a horse, the last time being when he was still living in his little village with his family. His father owned a ton of horses, using them to plow the fields. Arthur's favorite was called Colt, he was a black horse who would always sleep and play all day. Arthur loved how the horse would play dead whenever his father tried to ride him, falling limp to avoid working. The daydreaming man was startled by a whistle and a loud snort.

"Magnus, come here!" The American commanded, eyeing the Brit. Arthur didn't appreciate all of this hostility towards him, pulled his hand away from the horse, who was now making its way to the prince. The American nuzzled the nose of the horse, Magnus, and kissed its nose. "I'm so glad you're okay! I thought I'd lost you!" Alfred smiled fondly before looking over at Arthur, who had gone back to packing. "Arthur, are you ready yet?" His voice was nowhere near as happy as it was before when he was speaking to the horse.

In response, the Brit decided to emulate what his mother did whenever she was pissed at his father. He shrugged his shoulders and continued the task at hand. When Alfred repeated himself, the Brit ignored him, finally packing everything they would need. He could feel the anger radiating off of the prince, but the Englishman had put up with enough. He stood up and walked away from his companion, and went back to the stream. Arthur applauded himself as he washed his face, happy that he got the prince angry. He smiled at his reflection in the water, glad to see the bruise Kevin had left was fading. "American cunts!" He said, caressing the purple mark on his face.

"Excuse me?"

Arthur jumped as the American grabbed him by the shoulder, and twisted him around to face him. Alfred's eyes were dark as he glared at the Brit, squeezing his arms painfully. The Englishman began to protest, demanding that he be let go, but all Alfred did was hum. What was it with him and humming? He seemed to do it all the time as if it were normal. Arthur was freaked out, but he refused to show it. He glared back at the prince before yelling.

"GET OFF OF ME YOU BLOODY BASTARD!" The Englishman tore away from the American's grip and headed back to camp. His heart ached after he said it, just remembering that the man just lost his father and that's why he was all mean. But Arthur couldn't handle the constant rage the other was emitting, it was putting him on edge. His eyes were watering again, and he just really wanted to apologize. Should he look for Alfred? Or should he-

His thoughts were interrupted by the red faced American that was heading straight for him. He braced himself for a punch or push or any aggressive physical contact. Alfred grabbed him, but just let him go, humming. Arthur looked up in confusion searching the American's dark eyes. Alfred's eyebrows were knit, and his eyes were narrowed. His lips were pursed and his cheeks were flushed, but it was fading.

"it's not worth it. Are you ready or not? Because I'm leaving now" he said softly, searching the brits watery eyes for an answer. Arthur stood there for a second before nodding, tears threatening to fall. Why was he so emotional? Because he told Alfred off? That was nothing to be crying over. Alfred noticed the tears and walked away, not trusting himself to deal with it when he was angry.

~~~~~~~ Wounded Knight ~~~~~~~

The journey to the fortress was uneventful. Alfred and Arthur spoke constantly, and Arthur would visit Alfred's tent at night to clean his wounds. They were healing nicely Arthur noted and he smiled at his handy work. Alfred was feeling much better by the first day on the road, thanking Arthur for the help. By the middle of the second day, the fortress was in sight, and Arthur became more and more nervous.

Alfred knew of his pedigree, and he failed to find a good time to swear the prince to secrecy. He had just gotten back on his good side, and the prince was just starting to smile at him, he didn't want to blow it. He just prayed the prince wasn't denser than he looked.

"We're about an hour away, Artie!" The prince was excited to go home, it was clear. But the Brit was even more anxious now. An hour, an hour away from his death, an hour away from Peter, if Peter was even alive. Alfred glanced back in time to see the worry in his companion's eyes. "What's wrong Artie?"

Arthur looked up at the annoying nickname and smiled. He didn't want the American to worry about him. Alfred slowed down on the horse he was on, the white stallion named butter, and began riding next to the Brit. He repeated his question and Arthur had no choice but to oblige, not wanting to incite an argument. " I..." He started but he started freaking out midway. Alfred noticed his distressed and pulled on Butter's reins, stopping her. Shit!

"Arthur, I'm serious" he said with a pout, concern evident. Arthur frowned at this, another tantrum brewing. The American refused to ride or eat when he was angry, delaying their trip. Arthur stopped Magnus and turned to face the prince, nodding.

"I... I'm just worried is all. If they find out who I am, they wont hesitate to kill me and my brother. If they hadn't killed him already that is." He sighed, starting Magnus up again. The horse had grown fond of the Brit despite his accent, but Butter remained distant and aggressive towards him. Arthur petted his horse as Alfred pulled up besides him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I already made up a pen name for you. It's Arthur Pendragon. How does that sound?" The American chuckled. Arthur winced at the stupid name and shook his head, not liking it at all.

"Pendragon? What kind of name is Pendragon?!" He cried out whacking the prince. The other hummed in humor and let the blow land. The two rode in comfortable silence when they were approached by multiple guards. They recognized the prince instantly, but they looked at Arthur in confusion.

"Who is he, you're highness? And where is the rest of your company?" One guard asked.

Alfred's eye darkened as he spoke, dropping from his horse and taking Arthur by the arm. The Brit yelped at the sudden movement, being carefully dragged from Magnus. "We were ambushed by a band of British outlaws, they slaughtered everyone and left me for dead." The guards gasped, rushing the two inside the fortress. The two were put into the large dining hall, and all the soldiers filed in demanding to know what happened. Alfred gave the story of the ambush in grueling detail, shaking everyone to their bones.

"Then who is that guy next to you?" Someone called. Arthur had never been so scared in his life, but he hid the fear with a blank expression. The Brit glanced at the prince, but Alfred only offered him a reassuring smile. What! He doesn't really expect him to introduce himself. After Arthur shot the prince a pleading look, Alfred cleared his throat and answered the question.

"This here is Arthur Pendragon, he is the man who came to my aid and saved me. I surely would have bled to death if it were not to him. I owe him my life." The Brit was utterly shocked, he never even heard about this life debt. The people around the room cheered for Arthur, but the Brit knew it was going to be short lived. He tapped Alfred, who turned to face him with a goofy smile, but it dropped the instant he saw the distress in Arthur's eyes.

"What's wrong Artie?" the prince whispered.

"Aren't you going to tell them I'm British? The second I speak they'll figure it out, so you might as well tell them." He whispered back. Alfred nodded and turned back to his warriors with a stern look. Everyone in the room turned uneasy, the look gracing the prince's face making them worry, he was usually so lighthearted. He cleared his throat and stuck his hand out, which the Englishman took hesitantly. They stood together side by side as the American prince spoke once more.

"Arthur Pendragon... is British," he started. He was interrupted by gasps and scoffs.

"A brit saving you? That's preposterous, they are a sneaky vile group of people. For all you know, Pendragon was the one who ambushed you and killed your father!" a guard challenged, earning applause from the crowd. Alfred released the other's hand and hummed loudly. Everyone in the crowd quieted down, the humming echoing across the room. It was almost hypnotic, and when the last of the chatter died down, the prince spoke again.

"Are you questioning my authority, Marcus?" the humming man said, face relaxed but unamused. Marcus, the guard who suggested that Arthur was the one who ambushed the king, was shaking his head wildly, fearing his situation.

"No my liege! I would never, I was just bringing a probable scenario up to the surface! I think- "the knight started, but Alfred interrupted him, expression cold and stony.

"You think me stupid." The prince made his way down to the crowd, which parted right down the middle to give the man access. Though Arthur suspected that they didn't want to get caught in the crosshairs of whatever was going down. Alfred approached the guard named Marcus, who was now as pale as a sheet, and gripped his shoulder. The poor fellow dropped to a kneeling position and began to beg forgiveness.

"Please forgive me, your majesty, I did not mean to incite your rage. I swear to you, I do not think lowly of you and I most definitely do not think your intelligence is- "

"Silence!"

The room was completely still, the only noise coming from the sniveling man before Alfred. Arthur watched closely as Alfred began to pace around Marcus, pulling his sword from his sheath. "Do you know what I do to people who insult me?" the American hummed. When he didn't get an answer, the prince grabbed a random guard from the crowd and threw him on the ground beside the other. The two guards looked up at their prince in confusion, who, in turn, only hummed.

The second guard began to protest his innocence, that he didn't say anything, when he was cut short. Alfred positioned the sword right in front of his face, giving him a look that warned him not to say another word. Alfred tried again.

"Do you know what I do to people who insult my intelligence?" he repeated, his eyebrows raised and his tone light. Marcus shook his head no, to which Alfred hummed in understanding. "The same thing I do to people who encourage the mockery of my intelligence." He directed his gaze back to the second guard. "So Anthony, do you understand why you're out here now? You which to cheer alongside Marcus, you shall be punished alongside him too."

"I wasn't the only one who cheered! Have mercy your highness!" the knight reasoned, but Alfred shook his head.

"You were the loudest, and the face you were making at me! It was like you were just begging me to notice you." He raised his sword high, as he spoke to the room. "Now, I'm going to make an example out of these two. If any more of you would like to protest, do so now, and join your fellow knights." No one was stupid enough to go against Alfred, they were all just counting their blessings that they weren't so unlucky. As the prince swung his arm down, everyone in the room braced themselves, all except one.

"ALFRED STOP!"

Everyone's eyes snapped towards the front of the room, all eyes ogling the British man. Alfred's sword was a mere inch away from Anthony's head when he heard the Englishman's demand. The prince was still for a moment before sheathing his sword once more. He looked down at the guards before him and sneered.

"Count your blessings, this 'vile' human being just saved your life. Now go!" the two guards ran out of the room, leaving the rest of the knights in awe of the stranger who managed to stop the execution. Arthur blushed under all the stares and made his way over to Alfred, who threw his arm over the brit's shoulder.

"Now, my loyal knights, I want a band of you to go to the campsite and retrieve the bodies of our fallen brothers. They deserve a proper burial. And if you find any clues as to who attacked us, you bring them back, no matter how insignificant it seems." And with that, Alfred lead Arthur out of the dining hall and up the stairs of the fortress.

* * *

Alfred's arm slowly slid off of his shoulder and now grip the omega's waist. Arthur allowed him, but there was a nagging at the back of his head, like he was supposed to be doing something else. They walked up the stone stairs, paying no mind to the English servants that looked their way. The prince was walking faster and faster, as if he had a time limit. It eventually got to the point that Arthur had to almost run to keep up with the man gripping his waist.

The brit was panting heavily by the time Alfred stopped in front of two large mahogany twin doors. It was regal, to say the least. The door had gold engravings of warriors in combat, using swords and canons to tear down a wall. It took Arthur a moment to realize that the wall must have been London's, and the image depicted the siege of his nation's capital. His train of thought was interrupted by the hard knocking of the man beside him. When no reply came, the prince knocked harder, swearing under his breath.

"Alfred, relax." The Englishman said calmly, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. Alfred stopped reluctantly, glancing at the man that was still in his arms. Arthur was extremely aware of this, but he held his peace and smiled reassuringly at the American. The prince didn't smile back, but he didn't hiss at the brit or frown, so Arthur didn't feel bad. His smile did slip a little though, so the Alpha gave him a soft squeeze on the hip.

"I know, but it's been a while since I've spoken to- "

Suddenly, the large doors were churned open causing the pair to jump back. On the other side of the door stood... Alfred?

"Who...?" Arthur asked, confusion clear. He looked back and forth between the two people, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. "You're a twin?!" the brit asked excitedly, he'd never met a pair of twins personally, it was rare. His eyes lit up as he forgot his manners, babbling on about how he always wanted one, and that once when he was seven, he blamed his mother for a year for stripping him of that opportunity. His fangirling only stopped when he heard the second Alfred snicker.

"You always bring me the weirdest things, Alfred." He sighed before introducing himself to the brit. "My name is Matthew Williams, I'm Alfred's half-brother, not twin. Sorry." He smiled apologetically and stuck out a hand, which Arthur took. Arthur was expecting a handshake, but instead he was gently pulled into Matthew's room. He was shocked, but Alfred gave him a small pinch to his waist, urging him to go further.

Inside the room was huge, as expected, and the color scheme was pastel purple and white. Purple curtains, white rug, purple pillows, white bedsheets, etc. Arthur was in awe. Matthew saw his expression and smiled kindly. Alfred on the other hand let go of the Englishman 's hip and approached his brother. "Matthew..." Alfred said as he grabbed his doppelganger by the wrists, "We need to talk."

"About what?" he asked innocently, sitting down on his fluffy bed, Alfred sitting beside him. Arthur cleared his throat, getting the attention of the siblings.

"I going to go out into the hallway, you guys need privacy." Before Alfred could protest, Arthur was outside the door, closing it behind him. The brit sat against the wall and absorbed his surroundings. There were banners and portraits of past kings, queens, advisors, etc... there were also expensive looking vases with strange flowers. The stone walls were an ashy grey, and the floors were carpeted with a firm blue rug with tiny white stars here and there.

Arthur was dozing off before the prince opened the door, telling him it was alright to enter the room. The brit, however, wasn't expecting what he saw next. The room was disheveled, the curtains were torn, the pillows were all over the place, and the white bed sheets were rumpled. On top of those bed sheets laid the two twins. Matthew was sobbing onto his brother's chest while Alfred caressed his hair, humming. Arthur stared in wild astonishment as to how he hadn't heard any of the commotion that had obviously taken place here.

"This room is sound proof." The more familiar deadpanned, still combing through the distraught prince's hair. Arthur nodded dumbly before getting the room in order. He placed the pillows back on the bed and straightened the rug, avoiding the rumpled sheets. If it wasn't for the fact that the two were still on it, Arthur would have tidied it up, but since that wasn't the case, he tried his best to ignore the itch he had to fix it. The Englishman had been cleaning a lot lately, the dishes, the campsites, the blades, whatever it was, he had an impulse to clean it if it was dirty. Subconsciously, he knew he didn't want to be reminded of the deplorable conditions he had lived with for a while, but when he was questioned about it, he shrugged.

"Arthur, can you do me a favor?" Alfred asked quietly. Arthur nodded as he put down vase he was polishing. "In the wardrobe behind you, there's this white bear. Can you retrieve that for me?" he continued in a whisper. Arthur did just that and gave Alfred the toy, which looked awfully old and dilapidated. The bad stitching kept the toy together, and it was hard to tell what it really was. One of the button eyes were missing, and parts of the 'bear' wasn't white anymore, but instead grey or brown.

He watched silently as Alfred handed the sniffling prince the bear, who took it carefully. "Kumajara" he whimpered, wiping his tears with his older brother's shirt. Alfred hummed at his brother before chuckling.

"It's Kumajirou, Mattie."

"I said that!" the younger chuckled, taking shallow breaths. It was only then that Arthur noticed the subtle differences between the two that he should have seen earlier. For one, Matthew's eyes were this lovely shade of purple, compared to Alfred's rich royal blue. Matthew's hair was longer, and his cheekbones were higher. Alfred's hair was short, and his jaw was more square and sharp. The younger prince was willowier and lean, emitting compassion and elegance, while his brother was more built in physique, and he emitted brute force and intimidation.

"Arthur?" the frail prince asked timidly, still hiding his face. Before the brit could respond, Matthew continued talking. "Thank you for saving my brother and bringing him back. I know he can be a pain sometimes." Arthur chuckled and shook off the gratitude, insisting that Alfred wasn't that bad. To that, the prince in questioned scoffed, drawing the others' attention.

"I made you cry."

The Englishman's face burned at the memory and he quickly hid it behind a random piece of furniture. Alfred hummed in amusement as Matthew scolded him viciously. Arthur was taken completely by surprise of the quieter prince's colorful vocabulary, which ranged from 'Wangster' to 'Dickered'. Alfred protested to the insults, and claimed he was just joking around and that Matthew shouldn't be so aggressive. The younger prince told his older brother to apologize, claiming that what he said was rude and had crossed the line. Alfred apologized quickly, not wanting to incite another barrage of insults, and Arthur accepted.

The brit liked Matthew.

The paler man walked back to the vase he was polishing before and picked it up, polishing it again. "Why are you cleaning, Artie?" the more familiar American asked. Arthur shrugged like he always did, the nagging feeling at the back of his skull returning. What was he forgetting? What was he-

Peter

The vase landed on the floor with a heavy clank, throwing the brit back into reality. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" he said as he picked the delicate decoration up, setting it carefully on the table. His body was shaking and he feared he was going to be sick. How could he forget about Peter so easily? He was the whole reason why he escaped in the first place.

"Arthur, are you okay?" Matthew asked, squeezing his bear tightly. Arthur wasn't okay, his knees were weak and he wanted to cry, but he held it in.

"Matthew, was there an English boy delivered here a few days ago?" the brit asked, stress in his voice. "An English boy in a cart of flowers and a clubbed foot, by any chance?" the brit pleaded. Matthew shook his head.

"I'm not allowed out of my room."

Arthur didn't care about that, all he cared about was his brother. He pulled open the door to the bedroom and left, ignoring the invasive questions the Americans were asking. He needed to find peter, and no one was going to stop him. He retraced his steps down the stone stairs and headed towards the courtyard. He found plenty of servants there, but none looked like his brother, he decided to approach one and ask.

"Excuse me, sir?" Arthur began to speak to an overweight butler. The butler was kind enough, and told the brit everything he knew. Which was nothing he needed to know. He began to question more and more servants, each telling him that they had not seen a young boy with clubbed feet. Oh god, where could he be!? Arthur gave up asking the help and made his way to the nearest guard he could find.

The guard had noticed Arthur coming, and for some reason began to shake. It took the Englishman a moment to realize that the guard thought he had some kind of power over their prince. Arthur decided to use that to his advantage. "You there, yeah, you! I have some questions I need you to answer!" the guard looked worried.

"Yes, my lord?" he replied submissively. The brit smiled.

"Was there an English boy delivered here a few days ago? Perhaps on a flower cart?" he asked, glaring at the armored man in front of him.

"Multiple British boys were delivered over the past few days. Can you be more specific?" the guard squeaked.

"The boy was delivered in a flower cart and he had a clubbed foot." The brit obliged. The guard froze before shaking rapidly. What was he hiding?

"Can you be a bit more specific your grace?"

"WHAT!? How much more specific can I be!? Where the fuck is my brother!?" Arthur yelled, taking a threatening step towards the guard.

"He was your brother?!" the guard cried before realizing his mistake. Arthur eyed him suspiciously, heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

"What did you do to my brother?!" he commanded, grabbing the guard by the collar. The man yelled before falling into a kneeling position.

"I did nothing, my lord! I swear it!" he cried out.

"So help me god, if you don't tell me what happened to my brother I'll get Al- "

"Okay! Okay! Please!... he was weak and deformed, and some of the knights thought that it would be cool to take him training with them, so he could carry their weapons and equipment. When they returned, the new servant wasn't with them, and they refused to tell me what happened to him. I just assumed he ran away until..."

"Until?" the brit asked with a broken voice. He was shaking, his throat was tight, and his vision was becoming blurry with tears. Oh god, Peter! What did they do?! Oh god, please be okay!

"Until I heard them that night. Someone said something about returning to the woods to find the boy, but the others rebuked him, they said that the boy was as good as dead, and if anyone wanted to find the boy, they could do so themselves." The knight whimpered, fearing his death. If the king wasn't going to do it, surely the other knights he had betrayed would slit his throat in his sleep.

Arthur's head was swimming and his heartrate was through the roof. Tears escaped his eyes as he stared blankly at the man kneeling before him. Did he just say what he thought he said? Did the Englishman hear correctly? "P-p-p-p" he mumbled as he began to pace wildly, hands clawing at his face. "Peter! Where is he?!" He questioned the man again, who jumped.

"I do not know, I- "

"DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME HE'S DEAD! HE CAN'T BE DEAD! WHERE IS HE?!" The brit interrupted, screeching at the top of his lungs. The man whimpered, refusing to answer any more questions.

"I have the right to remain silent!" the guard sobbed pitifully. The right? THE RIGHT? Arthur began to lose it as he landed a hard kick to the soldier's face.

"YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT!?" He said with another kick to the body below him, this one landing on the guard's stomach. "DO YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO KILL MY BROTHER?!" he said with another kick. "DID YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO KILL" He stomped on the weeping man, "MY BROTHER!? MY FATHER! MY MOTHER AND MY FRIENDS!" Arthur was seeing nothing but red, he wanted to kill something and the man in front of him was the closest thing.

"YOU FUCKING AMERICANS THINK YOU CAN HURT WHOEVER YOU WANT, BUT NOT ANYMORE! YOU KILLED THE WRONG BRIT THIS TIME, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" the Englishman climbed on top of the bleeding, cowering man and began to punch him as hard as he could. "YOU THINK YOU COULD JUST KIDNAP PEOPLE!?" He swung. "YOU THINK YOU COULD JUST SEPARATE MY FAMILY?!" He swung again. "YOU THINK YOU COULD DESTROY... EVERYTHING I'VE BEEN FIGHTING FOR SINCE YOU BASTARDS CAME TO MY BLOODY HOME!" He swung again.

He was tired of punching, he needed to rid England of this menace. Arthur pulled his dagger out of his boot and raised it in the air, ready to rid his home of the American poison before him. "YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! YOU FUCKING BASTARDS TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! Now I'll ask you again, where is Peter?!" tears rolled down the brit's face as he brought the knife down.

~~~~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~~~~

Arthur awoke with an intense headache and a throbbing pain in his sides. What the hell happened? He looked around him and saw that he wasn't in the courtyard anymore, instead, he was in a huge room with velvety blue curtains and white furniture. Where was he? Just then, the door opened and a man walked in. Arthur's vision was hazy and he couldn't make out the identity of the stranger. He was going to ask when the guest spoke.

"Artie, are you feeling alright?"

The brit swore loudly as he turned around on the bed to face the other direction. He really didn't want to deal with Alfred. Said American took a seat on the bed by Arthur's legs and hummed in annoyance. Humming, huh?

"Why do you hum so much?" the brit groaned. Speaking just made his headache worse, and he could feel his nerves exploding. He groaned even more, hands now rubbing his head as he tried to fight the pain. The prince just hummed again, shifting off of the bed. Before the brit could question what he was doing, he felt a cool hand touch his forehead. Arthur allowed it, seeing that protesting would only make the feeling worse.

"I would send a nurse in here, but they're all terrified of you." He mumbled softly, pulling the brit into a sitting position. Arthur whined, but he eventually gave in, seeing that there was no point in fighting. He leaned against the soft head board and sighed heavily, praying for relief. Alfred rubbed the brit's temples, an action the Englishman found quite endearing. He's nursing him back to health, how sweet.

"Why are they afraid of me?"

"Because, you almost killed one of the best guards this place has to offer. You had him crying and whimpering!" the American praised, but Arthur didn't find it cool, or impressive. Arthur had lost himself in a moment of insanity, the troubling news about his brother driving him over the edge. Those awful knights took his brother into the forest and left him, probably with no supplies and no means of survival. Arthur had forgotten to ask when this happened, but he knew it made no difference. Peter wouldn't have been able to survive 2 days out in the forest without shelter, the nights were freezing.

"Arthur what's wrong?" the prince asked, wiping the tears away from the brit's face. Arthur hadn't even noticed he was crying; the memory must have jogged his tears. If his brother was still alive, it would be almost impossible to find him, the forests of Britain being as wild as they are. So if Peter wasn't dead, he was fighting for his life with nothing, and Arthur didn't know which was worse.

"Alfred, I have to go." He sobbed, a flood of emotions suddenly bursting through. He shook violently, and when the prince pulled him into a warm embrace, Arthur sobbed into his chest. Arthur threw his arms around the other's neck, pulling him in closer. He felt as if his brain was pushing towards the front of his skull, the pressure wanting to pop his eyes out. He cried out in pain, physical and emotional, coughing into the bend of his arm.

"Arthur, you can't leave." The Alpha said softly, holding onto the coughing man. The Englishman was a mess; his composure gone to reveal a sick shell of himself. Arthur shook his head wildly, looking into the prince's eyes.

"I need to find my brother. Your men abandoned him in the forest, he needs me to find him, he needs help!"

"NO ARTHUR, YOU NEED HELP!" the prince yelled, pulling away slightly to get a better view of the brit. The Englishman shook his head dumbly, not responding. "Your nose is runny, and you're coughing up blood. Arthur, you're not well, and I cannot let you go. Not like this." The American tried to reason, wiping some blood off of the brit's chin. "In a few hours, I'm going to bring you to the fortress healer. I don't care if you think you're okay, you're going. And then afterwards, I'll find out what happened to your brother."

Arthur was seeing black spots in his vision, the only thing remaining clear was the dark blue eyes of the man in front of him. Alfred pulled him back into his embrace and hummed softly, the noise oddly soothing. He fell limp against his friend, losing consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur woke up with a start, heart racing. He blinked rapidly before his vision began to clear, showing a plain wooden ceiling above him. That's strange, Alfred's ceiling was grey. Arthur sat up and yawned, stretching out like a cat. He felt so at ease, and relaxed, as if he had a full night's sleep. He swung his legs over the bed, but, to his surprise, he couldn't reach the floor. 'What the- "the brit started before he gasped loudly.

Why was his voice so... squeaky?

The Englishman leaped from the bed and turned in a circle, taking a good look at everything in the room. Why did it all look so familiar? The brit's thoughts were interrupted by a haste knock on the door and the low creaking of it opening. Arthur whipped around in time to see the woman who had let herself in.

"Arthur love, are you awake yet? It's time for breakfast!" the woman at the door sighed. She had beautiful brown locks of hair that went down to her waist, her curls bouncing. She wore a green and silver corset that was fastened comfortably around her torso, and her large flowy dress went past her shoes. She had startling green eyes and high cheekbones, the red blush on her face artificial. Her lips that were currently manipulated into a smile were a soft pink, which mended well with her pale skin. The woman didn't look her age, rather, she looked to be as young as 25. Arthur recognized this woman, her sigh, her smile, he recognized her instantly.

"Mummy?" the Arthur asked in disbelief, tears starting to well up. What the hell is happening? "Mummy?!" he cried, running up to grab her dress. Is she real? The woman glanced down at him in confusion before getting on her knees, which in her attire was no small feat. She embraced the sobbing brit, hushing him softly.

"Arthur, what's wrong? You know, you are much too young to have suddenly bursts of anguish, save that for the adults." He giggled. Arthur chuckled too, missing his mother's cynical sense of humor. He threw his arms around his mother and calmed down, at least enough for her to understand what he was saying.

"Mummy, I thought I'd never see you again!" he sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeves. The mother looked confused again, but she stood up, carrying the brit in her arms. She smiled warmly at her son before kissing him lightly on the cheek.

"Arthur, I would never abandon you! You kids are all I've got, I couldn't bear with the thought of leaving any of you alone for more than an hour, yet alone 'never again'." She said, bouncing lightly, calming the brit down further. "Why would I ever leave my 6-year-old fighter anyway? You're my favorite" she whispered. Arthur chuckled at this and his mother joined along. Arthur buried his head in the crook of his mother's neck as she made her way through the house. It wasn't an awfully large house, but it was one of the biggest in the village they lived in. The wooden floors creaked and the walls were splintered, but Arthur thought it looked beautiful.

They entered the dining room, which was already plated with warm biscuits and roasted duck. The smell was enchanting, and the brit felt his mouth water. When his mother set him down, he climbed up the nearest chair as fast as he could. As he got settled in his seat, he heard the front door slam open and a sudden burst of laughter. Arthur looked at his mother, who smiled fondly at him before she turned and left the room, to address the late comers.

"Uther, I swear, if you keep taking the boys out as often as you do, they'll never get to taste my delicious cooking and brag about it to everyone!" she kissed her husband on the cheek before telling the boys to wash up in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry Iggy dear, I thought we'd be back before breakfast was made. Arthur, are you awake my omega prince?" His father called out for him. The 6-year-old jumped out of his chair and hesitantly approached his father, not sure how to greet him. Does he salute him like his other siblings do? Does he just run up and hug him? As he approached the man, the young brit absorbed his father's appearance.

He had blond hair like Arthur, though his father's hair was straight, rather than the frizzy, untamable hair Arthur was cursed with. Uther had hard features; his steely blue eyes, angular jaw, and manly beard making him seem intimidating. But anyone who actually knew him, knew that he was as sweet as they came. At the corners of his eyes, the tiny wrinkles that were placed there wasn't due to age (even though the man was ageing), but instead because of his constant smiling. He was an unbelievably cheery man, and despite his tall stature, solid body, and past occupation as a soldier, he was a family man.

He decided to go with the later and practically jumped his father, ignoring the dirt smudged on his father's overalls, who laughed deeply and loud, turning in circles as they embraced. "Arthur, you must be feeling much better today, yes?" he asked, carrying Arthur back to the dining room.

"Oh, yes daddy, I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. I missed you!" he said, tightening his grip around his father's neck. Uther patted his sons head before, telling Arthur to let go, that he had a surprise for him. "Ooh, what is it?!" the English boy asked, bouncing up and down with excitement. He didn't want this day to end. The large man pulled out a delicate flower crown from his pocket, showing it off to his wife before explaining it to Arthur.

"Arthur, sweetie, this is a- "

"Flower crown?" Arthur interrupted, just wanting his father to put the crown on his head. He really wanted to wear it. His father laughed again, nodding impressed as he continued.

"Yes, my boy! Do you know what flowers these are? These are blue carnations and daisies and lilies. I tried to pick some flowers that could actually compete with how pretty you are, but Alas! It seems I have failed!" he said with a dramatic gasp, collapsing to the ground and playing dead. Arthur entered a fit of laughter as he climbed over his father to find his gift. When he found the crown, he dawned it on himself, and this time his mother spoke.

"All hail king Arthur!" she said with a whoop, clapping loudly. Arthur turned to see none of his brothers in the room, accept Peter, who munching on a biscuit happily. The he cheered alongside their mother, praising his beauty and wisdom. Arthur blushed deeply at all the commotion, but he let his guard down far too long, giving his father the opening he needed.

After 5 minutes of tickling and begging for mercy, Arthur was finally pardoned and allowed to eat breakfast in peace. He chatted with his Peter as he ate, his parents conversing in hushed tones. Occasional laughter could be heard erupting from their parents, but the kids paid them no mind.

Arthur's vision began to become hazy, and his eyelids were getting heavy. But he just woke up, how could he be tired? He felt himself losing consciousness as the cheery faces surrounding him began to melt away. "Mum!" he cried out, weakly reaching his hand out towards his parents who hadn't taken notice of his distress. "PAPA!" he tried calling for his father but he too didn't pay the brit any mind. He turned desperately towards his brother, but he was gone. When Arthur turned back to his parents, they were gone too.

What the hell was going on?! The brit was blacking out, the dark spots in his vision growing. Before he could call out again, he lost consciousness.

~~~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~~~

Arthur awoke with a start, yelling and screaming.

"PAPA! MAMA!" he cried blindly, looking around the pitch black room. He cried out again before he heard rushing footsteps run towards his room. The door swung open and his parents stood before him, the light of the hallway making only their outlines visible. His mother rushed to him, and his father lit a candle, causing a warm glow to fill the room.

"Arthur! Arthur calm down! Stop screaming!" his mother cried out, shaking her son as she did so. Arthur hadn't realized he was still calling out for them. His father took a seat on the bed and pulled Arthur into his chest.

"Arthur, you must relax! You shan't be screaming like that, you'll scare everyone! Now tell us, why are you crying?" he asked, placing a short kiss on the sobbing child's head. Arthur noticed his voice was deeper, but it was still high in comparison to when he was 20 years old. Arthur needed to know how old he was, he needed to know how much time he had with his family.

"How old am I?" coughed out, letting his mother's warm hands caress his blond hair. His father pulled away enough for them to have eye contact, and Arthur noted the worry in his father's eyes. He was placed gently on the backboard of his bed, where his mother instantly wrapped him in a hug.

"How does a child forget his own age, Uther? I think we may need to see the doctor." She deadpanned, hushing the soft noises the English boy made. His father said brisk words of agreement before raising himself off of the bed.

"Arthur, I will fetch you some water. Tell your mother what's wrong while I'm gone, oi?" he left quickly for the kitchen. Arthur hummed in his mother's chest before sighing.

"Mummy, how old am I?" he asked again, needing to warn his parents of imposing dangers. Well, maybe god was giving Arthur a second chance to set things right, to warn his parents about the war so they could avoid it entirely. If that were the case, Arthur needed to know how much time his family had to prepare and leave the country, if they listen to him that is. His mother looked upon him with sad eyes and smiled weakly.

"When I was your age, I always told people that being 9 years old was the new 15, not ask my mother what my age was." She chuckled dryly, her smile gone. When she was his age? He was nine at the moment, but the draft coming in from the small window in the corner told him that it was early autumn. The Americans don't arrive until the spring, leaving the Kirkland's with a few months to leave.

"Mummy, you must listen to me! There is going to be a war, a devastating war between England and America and we must leave now!" he pleaded, hopping off of the bed, rushing to his wardrobe. He took out the largest satchel he had and began throwing clothes in it.

"Arthur, what are you going on about!? Stop packing this instant!" she yelled, but Arthur wasn't going to stop until he got his point across.

"NO, Mummy listen to me! The Americans are going to come in the spring when I'm 10 years' old, if we leave now, we could be settled down and safe in Russia. If we wait until last minute, we'll be as good as dead! Now let's go, wake up the rest of the house!" he said loudly, running to the kitchen with a second satchel to pack some food. His father was walking up the stairs when Arthur almost bumped into him, nearly knocking the glasses out of his hands. Before his father could ask him where he was going, the brit answered.

"I'm going to pack some food for our trip. Ask Mum!" He continued his sprint to the kitchen, throwing the dried food stuff into the bag. After a few minutes of packing, Uther Kirkland stepped into the kitchen with Igraine Kirkland by his side, the two holding hands, faces twisted in concern. Arthur was currently reaching for something on the top shelf, and when he saw his father, he sighed, not yet noticing the look in then older man's eyes. Before Arthur could ask his father for help, his father spoke.

"Arthur, you are speaking nonsense, and your mother is fearing for you. What is causing these wild fantasies to sprout from your imagination?" he asked slowly.

"You mean the war? The war is coming! The war is coming and I'm the only one who knows about it! I can't save all of England, but I can save us, so that's all that really matters. We should leave now, and I pray that you two woke the children!" he said as he jumped, finally obtaining the jerky on the top shelf. He leapt from the table and landed safely on his feet.

"War? What war? With America? Arthur, I know the tensions between our nations are rising, but the Jones know better than to attack a nation who they are no match for. Our navy- "

"Will mean nothing when it is finally put up against the American's advanced technology." The brit deadpanned, getting tired of this conversation. He saw his father's mouth hang open, disbelief evident in his eyes.

"Arthur, you will not disrespect your father! I know nothing of what you are speaking of, but this is enough! Go to your room, and if I hear another word of this Arthur I swear to god!" his mother yelled, scolding him into silence. Arthur glanced at his dense parents before speaking, hoping the knowledge of what'll happen to them will change their minds.

"You form a resistance group with your soldier buddies and send me, mummy, and Peter to the capital. The three of us will live on the streets for two years before mummy is arrested for stealing food to feed us, leaving me and Peter to be servants of the very rich merchant named Sir Ector. You? You'll die alongside the rest of my family! The plague sweeps through the city, the Americans use canons to destroy the walls, and the people of London, meaning me and Peter, will be forced to live underground. Then we are kidnapped three years later, when I'm twenty, and we are being taken to the American fortress to work as servants. I escape, why? Because I have to save Peter from his impending death, but I fail anyway because I was side tracked with nursing the crown prince of America back to health! When I do find a lead on where Peter is, I find he was left out in the forest for days in the middle of November! Now, for some odd, unknown reason, I'm here! God has given me the chance to right the wrongs in my life and save my family!"

His parents stared at the English little boy for a moment before grabbing him by the ears and dragging him upstairs, tossing him into his room and throwing him on his bed, slamming the door as they left. That was probably not the best choice, the brit realized, in hindsight. Arthur felt his eyes get heavy again, and his vision was darkening, he knowing his chances were over. A soft sob escaped his lips as he lost consciousness, the last thing he saw being the open window and the flickering of the candle.

* * *

Alfred panicked as Arthur suddenly went limp in his arms, skin pale and eyes rolling behind his head. The brit let out one final breath as his head lolled to the side, tears staining his porcelain skin. Alfred was still for only a moment before taking action, instantly scooping his friend up and rushing out of his chambers, looking for the nearest medic.

"Guards! Healers!" the prince roared as he dashed down the hallway, being careful not to disturb his sleeping friend. If he even was sleeping, Alfred had forgotten to check his pulse. Once the thought of him carrying a dead body crossed his mind, the prince ran faster, disregarding the staring English folk that he passed by. "Healers!" he cried once more as he busted into the surgery room, to find it completely empty. What the fuck?!

"HEALERS!" he called out once more, placing his friend on the cushioned surface of the operating table. As he waited for assistance, Alfred undressed Arthur, soaking a rag with water to clean off the other's body. Alfred's father had taught him how to prep a wounded soldier for surgery, clean the body and look for wounds. However, this was different, the pale, scrawny figure in front of him didn't have any wounds, and the king wasn't present to tell his son what to do. The prince swore under his breath as he continued to wipe at the Englishman's skin, horrified at how terribly thin Arthur was.

Maybe that's why he was unconscious. Malnutrition?

Alfred doubted it, malnutrition doesn't cause people to cough up blood.

The plague did.

Alfred instantly backed away at the unconscious body on the table, terrified. What if Arthur had the fucking plague?! Alfred came in contact with various fluids of Arthur's already, Alfred could be infected. The prince swore at himself for allowing this to happen, for allowing an ... English man anywhere near him. How could he be so foolish. Alfred glanced back at Arthur's body in rage, expecting himself to lose it, let himself succumb to anger.

However, he didn't feel any of that.

He didn't feel angry once he glanced at the brit. He wasn't regretful, nor sad. He wasn't depressed, but he wasn't happy. Instead, he felt... sympathetic? Empathetic? Alfred never felt those feelings before, but he heard stories of how it could feel. He didn't like it.

He walked slowly toward his companion and placed his hand over the other's forehead, feeling his temperature. It was warm, it had cooled down from the last time had checked but it was still high. Alfred hummed as he soaked the rag again, this time placing it over the brit's forehead to help his fever come down. Alfred had no idea what he was doing. Where were the healers?

He left the room and called out again, before stopping himself. What if Arthur had the plague? He couldn't expose his people to it, he needed to care for Arthur himself. He swore under his breath as he made his way briskly to his room, locking then wooden doors and leaving a note on the front warning everyone to stay as far away as possible from the room. Arthur had been in there.

Arthur had also been in Matthew's room.

The princes heart flipped as he remembered, cursing himself for exposing his brother. Matthew was a good kid; soft, gentle, kind, innocent... he didn't deserve to be sick. But Matthew's not allowed to come into contact with anyone besides the royal family, so he wouldn't leave his room until notified to.

Alfred made his way to the infirmary, making sure no one was watching him. He closed the door and lock it behind him, he didn't want a nurse to walk in here and touch something he had touched. Arthur was still naked on the table, so the prince dug around for some clothes, some garment the brit could possibly fit into. All he managed to find was a spare woman's nurse uniform, so he dressed the brit up with a blush.

He always had a thing for nurses.

"Jesus Christ!" the prince yelled at himself, appalled of the direction his train of thought was headed. Alfred made his way to the large bookcase in the corner of the room and began to research the so-called "grey death." He had heard it was horrible, but he needed to know the symptoms of the virus so he could be sure that was what he was dealing with. Luckily, after an hour of reading, the "Grey death" was out of the running, Arthur's brain would have already seep through his ears.

Alfred was reading about this infection common among butchers. Apparently, dead bodies of animals are the main carriers of this bacteria, which can spread like wildfire from species to species. All the symptoms seemed to be there: sweating, aggression, runny nose, coughing up blood... the incubation period was 10 days and all the victim needed was lots of rest, and medicine.

He took a seat on another operating table and got comfortable. This was going to be a long 240 hours.

~~~~~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~~~~~

The next two days went by in a blur, Alfred either read, slept, or nursed Arthur back to help. It was the least he could do for his friend, he owed him his life. Arthur was getting responsive, he would whine when his forehead got too warm, and sometimes he squeezed the prince's hands when Alfred would hold his.

Alfred didn't feel any different, not even in the slightest, but he managed to find the antibiotics needed to help treat the infection, which Alfred had renamed "Butcher's flu" because he thought it was easier to say than 'carnifices morbus'. It had taken Alfred a few hours to decipher the Latin into English, but he tweaked it a little and replaced disease with flu. Much less depressing.

Alfred would inject the antibiotics, but he was very careful, not wanting to hurt the unconscious man. He found the vein and then he was swift in administering it, hushing the Englishman as he grunted. When he was done, he usually sat back down on his operating table and read more medical journals. This was the first he had read about the grey death in detail, and Alfred felt the strange effect of sympathy washing over him again. Millions of English people died, a slow, agonizing death. There were multiple phases to this disease, making it a unique virus. The first step was fatigue and nausea, then it was trouble balancing. After a few days of that, the infected would come down with a fever, which would be so painful that the person wouldn't be able to move. After being bedridden, the victim would lose feeling in his hands and feet, and their stomachs will begin to darken in pigment.

That's because their intestines are rotting and blood stopped pumping to their extremities. The victim would stop eating, seeing that anything they ate caused them a horrendous amount of pain. More of their organs would begin to die, causing them to cough chunks up in a pool of blood. All the while the headache is baking their brain, to the point where the brain eventually caves in on itself, escaping from the skull through the ears. Alfred felt sick as he was reading, the images of people suffering were haunting. The main victims of the virus were people ranging from 10 to 23, too young in Alfred's opinion. People that age should be going to school and having fun, partying, finding themselves, not fearing the plague. Alfred didn't realize he was crying until he felt a tear land on his collarbone. He quickly wiped them off and drew his legs to his chest, hiding his face in his knees.

"I never knew the British had it so bad. I heard horror stories from the help, but they never went into detail." Alfred sniffled lightly, trying to ignore the turmoil in his stomach. Guess he had to eat again. The American got off the table and went to the balcony, making a mental note to reward the nurse who planted a full-fledged garden on the terrace. There was a ledge above the garden, so if were to snow or rain heavily, the food would be fine. Only root plants were growing, like potatoes and carrots because the November air didn't allow anything else to grow.

Alfred tore a carrot out of the ground and returned to the surgery room, washing the plant with a little bit of water. The prince was getting tired of the plain taste of vegetables, and he knew he would need to make a run to the kitchen at night to find some junk food. And something for Arthur for when he wakes up.

If he wakes up.

Alfred rolled his eyes as he chewed his carrot, wondering where his life went wrong. Don't get him wrong, he's glad he met Arthur, but Alfred wouldn't hesitate taking it all back if it meant he'd get his father back. One day, just like any other day, they set out. It was fun, he was traveling with his close friends, and they were just hanging out. It was rare for any of them to act their age, 19, because, in a land as foreign as Britain, they always had to be alert. It took numerous amounts of coaxing for the prince to actually relax that night, and he had gotten drunk. They were all wasted, and they weren't aware of the bandits closing in on them. They only realized they were surrounded once the first arrow was shot, missing Alfred's face by an inch. The Americans somehow managed to dress in their armor, but by then they were already being slaughtered by the pale attackers. Alfred fought as valiant as he could, considering he was still seeing double, but then a man who Alfred now considers the most formidable opponent he had ever been up against approached him.

He had fire red hair, chiseled features, and beautiful green eyes. What Alfred focused on the most, however, were the ginormous eyebrows the other sported. There was a blur of red before Alfred could lift his blade, the swordsman already piercing the prince. Alfred stumbled dumb founded, he was the best knight at his fort, how could this happen? His opponent saw the shock in his eyes and spoke, in mocking comfort.

'Don't feel bad, laddy! I've never lost a duel in my life! Consider yourself lucky to have met me, Alli-' before he could finish, a battered man with a tubby tummy approached with a wine bottle raised, ready to strike the red headed bandit. Alfred heard himself scream, begging for his father to retreat, but his eyes were getting heavy. He must have been wounded more than he thought. He took one step towards the criminal with gigantic eyebrows before he lost consciousness. He awoke maybe an hour later; the campsite was destroyed. He could hear the British people laughing, and he could make out the clear voice of the man that tried to kill him. He was British, but his accent was mixed in with something... Irish? Either way, Alfred knew he needed to find help, needed to find reinforcements to help him rescue his father.

He dragged himself through the forest, keeping his heavy armor on in fear of making noise. After crawling for at least a few dozen minutes, the prince pulled himself to his feet and wandered aimlessly. He never been to this part of the forest, but he didn't feel lost. Instead, he felt this kind of pull that lead him to a clearing. It was awfully hot in his armor, and he felt as if he were dying of thirst rather than blood loss. He was exhausted, he couldn't breathe, his armor feeling stuffy. He walked toward a sunny clearing, praying for death to claim him. He leaned against the trunk of a tree and blacked out.

When he came to his senses, the first thing he felt was the cool air licking his body. He felt a pair of arms touching him, but for some reason he didn't feel scared or hostile, which is extremely out of character of the lone prince. When he opened his eyes, he instantly started to thrash, suddenly fearing for his life. Those eyebrows were so familiar, too familiar... the voice the man was using also threw him off. He had a British accent, but he was speaking in such a gentle way that Alfred was left in confusion. The British usually swore at him, hissed and threw rocks his way. They never dressed his wounds willingly. The prince found himself relaxing under the boney touch, allowing his wounds to be treated.

 _Cough, cough, cough_

"Arthur ?!"

He was instantly out of his thoughts, rushing over to his friend's side. The brit was currently wheezing and shaking, eyes fluttering like a madman. Arthur's head was banging against the table as white foam began to escape his mouth. Alfred swore out loud, cursing his luck. He had read this in the description of 'Butcher's flu': spasms of the infected with foam leaving his mouth. The book said it was a good thing, it claimed the body was rejecting the illness and were releasing the bad humors from the host. Alfred wasn't so sure, however. He could see, almost feel, the amount of pain Arthur was going through, the tears spilling from his eyes the most obvious indicator. There were also others, for example, the way his jaw clenched, the rough breathing. Alfred just wanted to hold him, but he didn't think that was a good idea, the book instructed against it. The prince couldn't stop himself from cradling his friends face with his hands. He couldn't have the brit inflict more damage, at least that's what he thought the reasoning behind his actions were.

He stayed like that until the Englishman stopped shaking, falling limp against the table. Alfred took a cloth and wiped the saliva off of his friend's cheek, briskly checking his pulse. It was weak, but he was still alive, and that was all Alfred could ask for. He returned to his table and got into a sleeping position, too tired to go on a midnight raid to the kitchen. He'll get food in the early morning. He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep, praying his companion would still be alive when he woke.


	5. Chapter 5

"ALFRED! I SAID WAKE UP! IT'S ALREADY NOON YOU BLOODY GIT, I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR HOURS!"

The American dropped to the floor suddenly, waking him. He cried out in surprise and scrambled to safety, in other words, under the table. Was he being attacked, did the guards find their way in the room?! The prince's thoughts were interrupted by soft chuckling, faint, but loud enough to be heard. He knew that laugh.

"ARTHUR!?" the American jumped to his feet and nearly tackled the other man, causing the other to cry out. Alfred didn't care about that, all he cared about was Arthur. He scooped his friend up in a hug and began to swing him around, laughing and cheering. He only stopped when the brit begged him to, fearing he would throw up. "Arthur, you don't know how scared I was!" his eyes began to water, but he didn't mind, considering it was just Arthur who would see. "I thought I was going to lose you!" Tears began to spill.

Arthur swiftly wiped them away with his thin fingers and gazed at the American before him. Alfred looked into his emerald eyes, drowning himself in their glow. The prince couldn't ignore the look of defeat lingering in the other's eyes, or the sorrow, or the fear. He wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he couldn't, he knew he couldn't, not until he gave his friend a proper meal.

"Why am I wearing a nurse's uniform?" The brit asked when he looked down at his outfit. Alfred waved it off, saying it was a long story.

He lifted the brit up like how a knight would pick up his lady, much to Arthur's protest, and carried him out of the infirmary. It was probably around noon, seeing that his maids and butlers were already bustling about. They stopped and stared at the prince in shock and awe, no doubt a million questions racing their minds. Alfred approached one of them and spoke.

"Two heavy breakfasts, as you can see my friend here is awfully thin. I'm leaving it up to you to oversee his weight."

"Yes sir!" the maid said quickly, a blush creeping to her cheeks. She had long, light brown wavy hair, and olive green eyes. They were pretty, but nowhere near as beautiful as Arthur's.

What?

The prince shook his head in bewilderment before he sent the girl off, making his way to his chambers. He unlocked it and crept inside. Despite his orders, it was clear maids were in his room; the curtains were drawn, the bed was made, and the pillows were replaced. He glanced down at the man in his arms and found that he was sleeping, a light snore could be heard. He smiled fondly as he reluctantly woke the brit up with a soft shake, planning on taking him a bath. He heard a grunt, then felt a hard pinch on the bicep.

"I need my rest~" the brit groaned groggily, rubbing his eyes awake. Alfred hummed as he made his way to his private bath. "Where are we going?" Arthur asked softly, though he quickly added with a harsh tone "I could get to wherever we are going with my own two feet!" he squirmed in the prince's arms weakly. Alfred let him down with a hum, rolling his eyes as he saw his tub was already full. He dipped his finger in it, and saw that the water was still warm. Why won't his servants listen to directions?! He began pouring liquids into the water, giving it a lavender scent. Alfred then began to undress, wanting to feel the warm water caress his skin. He only stopped undressing when he heard a choked squeak come from behind him.

"Artie? You alright?" he asked as he turned around, thumbs still hooked in his undergarments. It was the last article of clothing he had on, and he really wanted it off. It was becoming uncomfortable and it was beyond soiled, though you couldn't really see that because they were black.

"No I'm not alright! What are you doing?!" the brit before him had begun to inch back slowly, eyes blown out in fear. Alfred had no idea why Arthur looked so scared, but he figured it was the same reason as to why he looked so sad earlier that morning. Alfred hummed softly as he slowly approached the Englishman, wrapping his arms around him when he got close enough.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you, you know that. Or at least I hope you know that..." he looked down at the brit, who was currently burying his face in his chest. Alfred continued when he felt a nod against his chest, running his hands through the other's hair. "Relax, we're going to take a bath. You know what a bath is, right? I'm not planning on drowning you or anything."

He hummed softly as he began to undress the other, beginning with his shirt. He felt the other whimper against his chest, burying his face deeper. When he pulled the shirt off, only then did he see how red the brit's face was. His eyes were still blown out, but the second the shirt was off he buried his face in the other's chest again.

When the pair was done undressing, or rather, when Alfred was done undressing them both, Alfred entered the bathtub gently, not wanting to spill the water over the edge. He turned to see Arthur standing there awkwardly, covering up his man parts with the prince's shirt. Alfred ignored what the brit was doing to his shirt and instead held out his hand, beckoning him forth with a stern hum. He heard the other whimper as he took his hand, dropping the shirt on the ground. Alfred smiled at the sight before him, soaking up the other's lithe figure.

WHAT!?

The prince shook his head wildly as he closed his eyes and counted to 10. What was wrong with him? He felt the water level rise as it approached his neck, the shaky breaths of his guest urging him to open his eyes. The image before him was breathtaking. Arthur's pink lips were pressed together, his thick eyebrows raised. His cheeks were a wild red, and his eyes were just as feral, obviously looking at the prince's physique, taking it in the same way he was. Alfred's eyes began to descend, taking in the thin frame of the man before him. He was pale still, though he had gained some color over their expedition. His ribs were painfully visible, but the way his waist pinched in made the prince's mouth water.

Arthur's body was more on the feminine side despite having... parts. His thighs were plump and his legs were long and smooth, dainty feet to finish it off. Alfred lifted one of these feet and began to massage it. At first there was some protest, the brit swearing he was ticklish, but then Arthur began to settle down and allowed the American to continue in peace. Alfred kept his eyes on his companion's expressions, looking for any signs of discomfort. Arthur seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it, his blush pink and his eyes hooded. Small gasps were spilling from the Englishman's lips, along with curses and pants.

Alfred dropped the task at hand, much to Arthur's dismay, and began washing the brit's hair with shampoo, rinsing it twice. He conditioned it quickly, not realizing how close he had got to Arthur until now. He was a mere 3 inches away from the other, washing his hair. Arthur took it upon himself to close the distance, placing his face in the crook of the other's neck, breathing in his scent. Alfred hummed in satisfaction, and slight discomfort, the action being slightly intimate. He never let anyone scent him before, well, except Matthew and his parents. Alfred returned the favor, dipping his face to bend of the brit's neck before breathing in. The smell was thick and prevalent, the smell of a forest after it had rained. Alfred could feel himself getting drunk off of it.

The Englishman's arms managed to wrap itself around the prince's neck as he drew himself closer, purring. Alfred felt legs wrap around him, causing him to pull back slightly and glance at the other's face. As expected it was red, but his eyes were not only feral, but this time lustful as he dragged the American's face downward.

 _Mwah_

Alfred didn't realize they were kissing until he felt Arthur's tongue in his mouth, making him do the same. They fought for dominance, but ultimately the prince won. The brit moaned against his mouth, pulling away suddenly.

"Artie?"

"My hands are getting prune-y" he said with a blush. Alfred figured that was a nice way of saying he wanted to stop, so he hummed in acceptance. He washed his hair and carefully stood up and left the tub, pulling Arthur out and carrying him like a bride. Arthur didn't complain this time, content with the notion. They remained naked, not wanting to dry off too quickly. They wanted to see each other's body's for as long as they can. Alfred dressed in his usual attire, a white blouse and blue trousers. He raided his closet and found some old clothes that barely fit the brit and told him to wear it, reminding himself to get Arthur some clothes.

 _Knock, knock. Knock_

"Come in" The prince grunted as he fastened the shoelaces on the brit's boots. He swore he would have to teach Arthur everything. The maid from before walked in, pushing in a cart with two trays on it and a two glasses. There was a wine bottle and a big bowl of various fruits, causing the American's mouth to water. As badly as he wanted to dig in, he had matters to attend to. He told the maid to prepare a fine wardrobe for Arthur, telling her to get his measurements after breakfast. He also told her to tell everyone that there was going to be a meeting at 8 o'clock regarding the disappearance of one of the British servants.

Arthur was far too absorbed in the eggs he was eating to pay attention to the prince's demands but Alfred figured it was for the best.

~~~~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~~~

Breakfast didn't last as long as Alfred had hoped, and soon the maid returned with some supplies for taking Arthur's measurements. As much as Alfred wanted to stay, he knew he had important things to do, one of them being three days' worth of paper work. He left the room with a quick goodbye, placing a soft kiss on the brit's forehead before shutting the door behind him. He walked leisurely into his office, noting the piles of crap on his desk. Well, this was going to take forever.

Alfred plopped down in his comfy chair and picked up the first sealed envelope he saw. He hummed as he looked at the blue seal on the document, recognizing it instantly. It had been a while since he had communicated with Francis. He opened the envelope and pulled out the tart parchment, reading it in his mind with the accent he knew the Frenchman to have.

 _Oh my dear comrade,_

 _Is what I hear true? Is the great king George of America deceased? Killed by a pack of British savages? If it is true, then it is a dark time in America. I am planning a trip to your fort in the upcoming week, to make sure you and Matthew are fine. While I am there I shall pay respects to your late father, and speak on important matters of France. I am still waiting for consent, Alfred, or should I say, King? My countrymen are willing to continue this alliance, but only if our terms are addressed. What are our terms? Well, I discussed this with your father these terms, and he had failed to give me a response. I am counting on you to not have me sit here like a fool._

 _My first caveat is quite simple. The people of France demand the repossession of the newly acquired American island of Tunis. It was French soldiers who fought at the battle of Tuckers, not Americans, so it is only fair that the island be added to French territory._

 _My second Caveat is the access to your trade routes throughout the Mediterranean with a reduction in taxation of my merchants. It is a simple request, seeing that the French are such loyal trading partners with your country._

 _And my last caveat, is to solidify our alliance through marriage. I wish to take Prince Matthew's hands in my own and present him to my people as my queen. You know full well that I have been on my throne for a matter of years, though I am no older than you, I do know a thing or two about the benefits of this. You already know the extent of my feelings for your brother, and keeping the love of my life away from me is the vilest deed a man can do._

 _I beg of you, Alfred. Please return Matthew to me_.

Alfred stared at the letter, feeling a pang of guilt for his comrade. The prince thought all of the terms were rather reasonable, and he didn't oppose the third request. Matthew had been rather lonely for the past few years, throwing fits every time he saw their father, blaming him for ruining his life. Matthew was overreacting of course; his life wasn't over. Matthew and Francis were close friends, and they would occasionally have slumber parties. King George never really approved of their friendship, fearing it would progress into something deeper. Queen Martha thought it was okay though, and the friendship progressed. However, the American Monarchy quickly dissolved their relationship after a maid had told the Americans of a particularly steamy night between the two teens.

They had mated.

According to Matthew, it wasn't Francis's fault. The American's heat had come on suddenly, and Francis was taken over by primal instinct, unable to resist the beta's scent. Matthew had a bite mark in the crook of his neck, signifying that he had been claimed, but that didn't stop King George from sending Francis back to France, never to have any contact with his son. That didn't stop either of them from trying, and so the king reluctantly put Matthew under house arrest, keeping him under 24-hour watch.

Alfred still thought Matthew was lucky, at least he didn't get pregnant. He couldn't imagine his father's reaction; he'd probably declare war.

Alfred hadn't realized he was working on autopilot, ¾ 's of the way through. There was a soft knock on the door, and Alfred hummed in consent. The same maid from before came in and informed that the meeting he had scheduled earlier had already begun. Alfred nodded in understanding and rose from his seat, following the servant to the grand hall. Once seated in his throne, he gave everyone a stern look before beginning.

"I am sorry for being late, I got lost in my work. I have a few matters to address." The room was silent, suddenly tense. Knights gave each other wary looks, confusion and a little fear. Alfred cleared his throat and looked around. He couldn't find Arthur. Perhaps he was sleeping? Alfred pushed his worries aside and continued. "You all know my savior, Arthur Pendragon; the one who saved Antony and Marcus from execution."

The crowd nodded solemnly, muttering slurs and indecencies. It appears that their prince's vouch wasn't enough to soothe their suspicion of the Brit. Alfred's mind was racing; if he couldn't convince his people that Arthur was a friend, they would neglect or abuse him whenever Alfred was away overseas. And the prince would have to do that soon, he would need to be at his coronation in the capital. Alfred needed to set some rules. "I want no form of hostility directed towards him in any way!" He declared, or rather yelled to the crowd.

Everyone was still once again, not expecting of the sudden burst of anger. They nodded their heads slightly, and the prince continued. "You are never to hurt him Physically. If I ever hear from him that any of you had harmed him in any way, not even god can save you!" He said in a growl. He cleared his throat and spoke again.

" Now, a few days ago, my British guest told me some troubling news. His brother, a young British man with blonde hair and blue eyes, with a clubbed foot, was taken by a group of knights and left behind to die." He let that sink in, everyone in the room standing still. Alfred knew that no one was going to confess, or tell on anyone. He had to think on his feet.

"So, if the knights who killed this boy want to confess to me anonymously, you can do so in secrecy. For those of you who knows something, or think you know something, no matter how insignificant, you can talk to me in full disclosure. Uh ... for the knights who confess, they will be stripped of their knighthood, and sent back to America with all the money they had earned and go their way. Um ... for those knights who were caught, and didn't come forth, you will not only be stripped, but you'll be banished from my country and... your wealth will be divided to those who had sold you out!"

Alfred breathed out heavily, mentally tired. He patted himself on the back for thinking that up so quickly. The crowd began to look around greedily, mummers filling the room. Alfred was ready to hit the hay, the people in front of him quickly annoying him.

"Is that understood?" when there was a quick, and loud, 'yes', Alfred nodded in acknowledgment. Another thought popped up in his head and he quickly blurted it out. "These confessions will start tomorrow afternoon." He didn't want a line of people pestering him tonight, he was too impatient to deal with it. Alfred excused himself, telling his people the meeting was adjourned.

He quickly made his way to his chambers, unusually excited to get into his room. He would, before he met Arthur, wonder around the fort until he was at the brink of slumber, only then retiring to his bed. At that point, he would sleep a dreamless sleep and wake up with an empty feeling. He'd take that over night terrors any day though. He had them frequently, but nothing awfully traumatic ever happened to him that would cause him to be scarred for life. At least nothing he remembered.

The farthest his memory went back to was when he was about 11 years' old, meaning he only remembered 8 years of his life. Why? He doesn't remember.

He knocked on his door and waited patiently. When he no one answered, he knocked again, but louder. Still no answer. Before he could kick down the door, it swung open to reveal his brit wearing a white laced night gown that did little to cover anything. Alfred couldn't stop himself from licking his lips. Arthur noticed and blushed scarlet, huffing out an indecency.

"Elizabeta made me wear it. She said if she checks up on me and I'm not wearing it she won't make me her 'famous' bacon and eggs. I like bacon and eggs..." he rambled out before trailing off, to focused on the American who had wrapped his arms around him.

"I don't mind at all..." he said with lust filled eyes.

* * *

Arthur blushed heavily when he felt Alfred's soft lips kiss along the outer shell of his ear. He was humming again, but the Brit didn't mind it anymore. He found it soothing now. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around the prince's neck, burying his heated cheeks in the crook of it, sniffing.

Alfred's scent was a strange smell, nothing the Brit could pin point. He could make out some aspects of it, like the saltiness of the ocean, a metallic smell, obviously from his armor. He was a knight, probably the best in the fort. Arthur could almost imagine the American sweating on a hot day, muscles bulging due to the vigorous training he was enduring. The Englishman moaned at the thought.

When Arthur forced himself back into reality, he realized he was now pinned under his companion. Before Arthur could protest, Alfred's lips were already on his. The Brit tried to go along with it, but he was getting anxious. Alfred would never hurt him, right? He just wants to test the waters, rights?

He doesn't want to have sex, right?

If he were to say no, he'd stop, right?

He wouldn't try to take advantage of him, right?

Arthur couldn't stop the fear from taking over, making him panic. He was still pinned, so he did the only thing he could.

"SHIT! FUCK! JESUS CHRIST, ARTHUR! What was that for!?" The prince yelled as he sucked in his bottom lip, trying to soothe the cut the Brit had bit into it. The Englishman scooted all the way to the other side of the bed, eyes still wild. The prince must have noticed, because in a second he was right beside the Brit, pulling him into a hug. Arthur was baffled, to say the least, but he allowed it, calming himself with the Alpha's scent.

"I got scared, and I thought you'd just ignore me if I said stop" the Brit whimpered, shaking.

"What?! Arthur, I would never do that to you! I thought I told you that I would never hurt you." The prince pulled Arthur onto his lap, kissing him softly. Arthur smiled, deciding he liked being babied. He wrapped his arms around his neck once more, apologizing with soft kisses to the abused area. He could feel the American smile, kissing back gingerly, minding his lip. After a couple of minutes, Alfred left to the bathroom to change, leaving Arthur alone on the bed, thinking about his day.

He had woken up several hours before the prince. He was too out of it to care though, his forehead begging him for relief. Being too tired to move, he waited for Alfred to wake up. Arthur noted the nurse's outfit he was wearing, but when the American was awake, he didn't feel like pressing it, a bit too numb to care. He had failed his family for the second time. Alfred scooped him up and hugged him, accidentally giving Arthur a little whiff of his real odor.

Arthur wanted more.

Alfred carried him off and walked him to his room. Arthur enjoyed it thoroughly, but he fussed a little, needing to save face. He hadn't noticed he had fallen asleep until the prince shook him. The brit came to his senses and escaped the American's grip, embarrassed he about his behavior. The prince led him into the bathroom, where a tub of water was waiting. Soft steam was rising from the pool of water, and the Englishman's aching muscles began to beg for it. He only realized the situation he was in when he saw the American in only his underwear. At the moment, he could only think of the very American expression:

Buy a guy dinner first!

He freaked out, backing away, planning on running to safety. He would have run if he didn't see the confused innocent look on the prince's face, as if he had no idea how inappropriate this situation seemed.

An American alpha prince undressing before the only surviving omega son of a British militant leader.

Alfred promised not to drown him, though the thought never really crossed his mind. He feared what was in the boy's pants more than anything really. He could see how big it was through his black garments; it was much bigger than the broom handle, and much wider. Arthur hadn't been eating well for half of his life, a cock that size would crush him. The brit had lived through a lot of shit, survived through a lot, but there was no doubt in his mind that if that penis was forced into him, he would die.

He was wrapped in a warm embraced, where he had gotten another chance to smell the prince. He buried his face in the others chest, feeling his cheeks burn. He threw his arms around the American, trying to keep balance, suddenly dizzy. He was under too much stress, he never felt so weak before. Before long, he felt his clothes being tugged off gently, embarrassing him even more. The American stripped him of everything he had on, i.e. the nurses outfit. When Alfred was done, he walked over to the tub and lowered himself inside, releasing a sigh.

How could he feel relaxed when he's so exposed?

Arthur grabbed the first article of clothing he found and covered his vital areas. He heard a stern hum come from the prince and he knew it was for him to stop bitching and enter the tub. So he did.

Not the bitching part though.

When he entered the tub, he instantly had mixed feelings. The water did wonders for his aching muscles, and the tub itself was huge leaving more than enough room for the two to stretch out without touching each other. However, it let the American gaze at his body like a piece of meat, and Arthur wasn't sure if he felt comfortable with that. Though, the brit couldn't say he was any better, considering he was doing the same thing.

Alfred, like he had imagined, had a beautiful chest with light fuzzy hair littered across it. His abdomen rippled in the water, and the veins of his biceps were bulging, just the way he liked it. Arthur noted powerful thighs and sharp calves, licking his lips as he did so. The brit, unfortunately, couldn't stop himself from eye guzzling the man's member, suddenly finding its existence arousing. Speaking of arousal, he could smell Alfred's from where he was. He blushed, flattered. Most people wouldn't find such a creature as himself attractive, he appreciated that at least one person did.

He felt hands on his feet suddenly, and he couldn't help the jolt that sped through his body, making him laugh. He kicked and squealed but the American ignored it, pressing his thumbs against the sole of his achy foot.

'Nnh~'

Arthur blushed at the noises he was making now, moans pants, anything lewd really. He threw his head back, feeling himself get all worked up, wanting the treatment to stop and continue at the same time. This tender stimulation was unprecedented, and Arthur was losing his composure quickly. He whimpered out the prince name quietly, so low that he could barely hear it himself. His cock twitched, and he had the urge to touch himself, but he wasn't that out of it to actually do that. Yet.

Suddenly his foot was dropped and hands were in his hair, cleaning it. Arthur sat their patiently as the prince scrubbed, not wanting any to get in his eyes. He remembered when he was younger, while he was working for sir Ector at the manor, he had gotten the substance in his eyes while he was taking a shower. His eyes burned and they watered uncontrollably, despite the print on the bottle saying it was a 'no tear' formula. He never touched the stuff again.

He was suddenly anxious, and wanted to rinse his hair out, but he willed himself to relax. He breathed in Alfred's scent again, becoming almost limp. He felt as if he were floating every time he smelled the prince's divine odor. He felt water get poured over his head, assuming that the soap was gone now. He threw his arms around the American and breathed in harder, feeling the American do the same. The brit couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body, wrapping his legs around the prince, who pulled away a little to look at him.

The next thing Arthur remembered doing was pulling the American down harshly and shoving his tongue in his mouth, exploring it. When he felt the other doing the same, he felt a sigh of relief, unsure of how he would have reacted if he were rejected. He'd probably think Arthur was a whore, or something like that, Arthur couldn't have that. The brit smelled the Americans pheromones, much more potent up close.

Alfred was kind of horny.

The Englishman broke the kiss, suddenly self-conscious. They weren't going to have sex in the tub after he had just woken up from a coma, that was so cliché. He made up some half-assed excuse which didn't look like it convinced the prince. There was a slight pause before the American nodded, climbing out of the tub. At first the brit thought he had offended him, but when the American scooped him out of the water, he was reassured of his safety.

 _Knock, knock, knock._

Arthur was instantly out of his thoughts, shocked, looking around dumbly as he sat up. What was going on?

"Arthur? You in there?" a soft voice called out. Arthur sighed in relief, knowing exactly who it was. He stood up and made his way to the door.

"Yes, Elizabeta?" he asked annoyed. He wanted her to understand his grievance with her, making him wear such a thing in front of Alfred. He heard her snicker as she pushed the door open with her butt, holding folded clothes in her hand. Before Arthur could question, the servant spoke.

"I got you sexier apparel to impress your man, just like you wanted!" she squealed, a little too loudly for his liking.

"For god's sake, Liz! Alfred is in the other room! And I never asked you for these!" he said as he traced one of the tunics gingerly. It was green, a soft green with gold threading that made it look grand. It had soft floral patterning that you could hardly make out, so minute and detailed that it was almost impossible to tell what it was from a distance. There were a few dresses that he didn't agree with, not comfortable showing off so much thigh. The callers of these clothes all dipping well below his collar bone, almost exposing his nipple. He could never wear any of these out in public.

"Do you like them?" Elizabeta asked hopefully.

Arthur looked up at her and saw the fatigue in her eyes, suddenly questioning where she got the clothes from. He knew she was a busy woman, cooking, cleaning, shopping all while parenting a daughter. She was married to the fort musician, and she worked non-stop, cooking for hours at a time to feed dozens of knights. Of course there were multiple cooks, but she served the food too, and went down to the ports to get the seasonings. Arthur didn't want to be another chore for the poor Hungarian.

"Did you go all the way to the markets to buy this for me?"

"Yes!"

"No! don't do that anymore. It is an hour walk from there to here, I don't want you straining yourself anymore. You are already overworked! I swear if you collapse from exhaustion- "

"Sorry it took me so long, my button was stuck..." The American walked into the room, cheery smile disappearing, replaced with confusion, and slight annoyance. Everyone was silent, but the implied question coming from the American's humming was hanging in the air.

Did he mention the prince was in his underwear?

"Uh... I was just leaving..." Elizabeta started, making her way out.

"Yes, good, but what were you doing here in the first place?" the prince sounded calm, and looked calm, but there was something about that calm that was slightly unnerving. Servants weren't allowed in when he was in unless they had permission. Elizabeta knew that, and her faced pale, leaving Arthur surprised about how quickly the mood changed. He decided to interject.

"Alfred, I'll explain, but Elizabeta here is very busy at the moment, so she has to go." The Hungarian was already gone by the time the brit was at the door, locking it. Why did she get so scared?

"What was she doing in here?"

"She came to deliver some clothes she got for me." The brit offered, pointing at the pile of clothes on the bed. Alfred approached it, black garments perking up his ass just a little. Arthur watched as the prince inspected the clothes skeptically, humming as he did so. The brit approached him, touching his bicep carefully. "Do you like any of them?" the Englishman didn't like the silence; it was so unnatural for the man.

"I like them, but you are never going to wear this outside of this room, you know?" Alfred turned to face him, eyes possessive and aggressive, as if the idea of anyone seeing the brit in those clothes was offensive. Arthur was strangely flattered, but a little irritated at the same time.

"I wouldn't be comfortable wearing this anyway, but even if I were, you couldn't stop me from doing so."

Alfred looked unamused to say the least, glancing at the brit behind him with cold eyes. He looked slightly hostile, as if the brit just challenged his authority. Which he had, he realized. Before the Englishman could rephrase, the American was facing him fully, his jaw doing that thing. You know, the thing boys' jaws do when they're angry.

"There are plenty of ways I could stop you from wearing this." He said with a soft growl, dangling the article of clothing in the brit's face. Why Arthur actually liked that dress, the pattern was intricate, so he snatched the dress away from the rude American. Alfred made a grab for it, but the Brit twisted his body in time to save the dress, diving on the bed and bringing himself into the covers.


	6. Chapter 6

"AHHHH! ALFREDDDD! ALFRED! PLEASEEEE! I'M SORRY!" the brit squealed between gasps and laughter. He thrashed around under the blanket he was hiding under, trying in vain to crawl out. Currently, he was trapped under the prince, who was bouncing and tickling the man underneath him. The American was laughing too, a light cheery laugh that the brit had never heard before. The brit had half a mind to let this continue just to hear the seraphic voice, but the lack of air coming to his lungs convinced him otherwise.

"Then give me the dresses, and I'll show you mercy." The prince chuckled darkly, temporarily stopping his tickle attack. Arthur nodded numbly and sat up as soon as he was able to. He handed the pretty green dress to the prince with a huff, not at all happy to let it go. Alfred had a smug look on his face as he took the dress and tossed it to the other side of the room. The brit stared at the dress in shock, anger and a mix of other unknown emotions flashing through his eyes. He could just imagine the disappointment in Elizabeta's eyes, having done all that work for nothing.

"You know what, Alfie? I'm keeping these dresses." The brit declared. He turned to the royal in time to see the other's face contort into annoyance. He was gonna say something, the brit could tell, but Arthur wasn't going to let him talk his way out of it. "Do you know why? Because Elizabeta went all the way to the ports to get this for me, even though she didn't need to. She cooks and cleans a-and she does so much around this _god forsaken fortress_! It's so rude of you to just toss her efforts away because you _think_ you fucking own me! I won't wear them outside, I wasn't going to in the damn first place, but I am sure as hell going to keep them!"

He stomped over to the discarded, and at this point, wrinkled dresses and picked them up, placing them on the foot of the bed. When he rounded them all up, he began to fluff them out and fold them, occasionally giving the American a dirty look. He felt the prince's gaze on him, and despite the brit feeling a little remorseful at the choice of words he had chosen, he commended himself for keeping his cool as long as he had. The silence of the other was getting to him though, at this point the prince would usually shrug it off like it was nothing, but he remained silent, his eyes burning holes into the brit's face.

"What?" the brit deadpanned.

"She went because _I made_ her go, not because she wanted to. She cooks and cleans because _I'm paying_ her to do it, she needs the money. It was hardly an effort to get to the port, she went in a carriage so no one would steal the clothes _I sent_ her to buy." The prince growled.

Growled? That's the first time Arthur had heard him direct a growl at him.

Arthur ignored him though, not caring about the truth. "Whatever Alfred. Is that what you say to convince yourself that your staff isn't overworked? Open your eyes _my prince_ , you need a reality check, desperately." The brit took the folded clothing and placed it on a chair on the opposite side of the room, far away from the prince. The Englishman entered the bathroom without another word to the American. He washed his face and combed out his wild hair, putting it in a small bun. He really needed to cut it.

He left the bathroom about a few minutes later only to find the room empty and the window open. The bed was made, despite it looking like a war zone 10 minutes before. The brit approached the window tentatively, half expecting the American to pop up and give him kiss on the cheek as a weak apology. Alfred was nowhere to be found though, the chilly late November air giving the brit goosebumps. He went to close the window, trying not to look down, knowing he was afraid of heights. He shut it with his eyes closed, drawing the curtains without a second thought. He returned to the bed and settled down on the left side, leaving more than enough room for the prince.

The bed was soft, the light glow of the room was soft, and Arthur soon found himself drifting off to sleep.

~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~

Arthur woke up with a start, a familiar bad feeling in his gut growing. He looked around the dim room dumbly, hardly being able to make out anything. The door was closed, and the bed was still cold. Alfred wasn't back yet. The brit swung his legs over the side of the bed made his way to the table near the bookcase. He took the dying candle and lit another one, instantly brightening up the room.

It was exactly the same as he left it, looking as if no one entered. That was the problem, the brit supposed, Alfred still hadn't returned. There was no light coming in from the window, so it must have been very late and foggy. The curtains were thick however, so it may not be as late as the brit thought it was. As he approached the window, the bad feeling began to grow, causing Arthur to stop in his tracks. He ultimately decided to continue walking, seeing that the other times he had a bad feeling didn't lead him to necessarily bad things.

He pulled aside the curtain and a flood of moonlight filtered into the room, disproving the brit's earlier assumptions. However, the moon was high in the sky, at its highest point actually, it must have been very late. Where the hell was Alfred? There were no clues as to where the prick went, except the open window. Maybe he fell out.

Maybe he jumped out.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" The brit was immediately up against the window, pulling it open and sticking his head out. The drop to the bottom was far down, in fact, he couldn't even see the bottom; that's how high the room was. Arthur founded himself beginning to panic, pacing the room wildly. "I JUST YELLED AT HIM, HE ISN'T CRAZY! HE WOULDN'T THROW HIS LIFE AWAY BECAUSE OF WHAT I SAID, HE DOESN'T CARE THAT MUCH!"

The brit threw on some boots and left the room, not even bothering to close the door behind him. The halls were empty, everyone was asleep, so there was no one to help him look. SHIT! He ran down the hall to the stairwell, tripping over himself as he ran down the stairs. If Alfred really did jump, he would still be down there, seeing that the alarms in the castle hadn't been set off. He ran through the dining hall and cut through the courtyard to get into the forest. He was planning on following the edge of the forest to his bedroom window. If there was no body, then Alfred was alive. If there was, Arthur was dead.

Well that was the plan at least.

Arthur found himself wandering for well over an hour, shaking wildly from the biting cold. He only just realized that he was still wearing a frilly nightgown, something not appropriate for the current weather. Arthur finally found the clearing of grass just underneath his window, sighing happily when he found no body. He cursed himself for not checking around the castle first, wasting an hour for just wandering around aimlessly. Arthur was going to start his trek back when he saw something flash at the corner of his eye. Something small, and fragile. It looked familiar. As he approached the item he could make out more details. They were glasses. Arthur's bad feeling began to come back as he picked up the object in his hands.

The framework, the shine of the glass lenses, the initials.

They belonged to Alfred.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT! NO, NO, NO, NO, NO PLEASE, PLEASE, OH GOD NO!" the brit began to sob as he dropped on his hands and knees, foraging around the clearing. He reentered the woods, looking and searching desperately, panic reaching an all-time high. "WHAT THE FUCK ALFRED!? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!? WHO THE FUCK WOULD JUMP OUT OF A WINDOW!?" hot tears were streaming down his cheeks, guilt slowly creeping into his heart.

"I DIDN'T MEAN WHAT I SAID, GODDAMMIT! I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SO SORRY, JUST PLEASE COMEBACK!" he pleaded, ignoring the scratches that he was accumulating. The pain in his heart drowned out the physical pain. The canopy of the trees made everything pitch black, so Arthur was basically feeling around for his companion, hoping it didn't get bitten or stung by anything venomous. Maybe after another hour, the brit couldn't be so sure, of foraging through the cold, the brit's breathing got a bit more labored. It took more of an effort to inhale now, and he couldn't feel his fingers anymore.

He kept fighting through the numbness though, he needed to find Alfred. "Alfred!" he whispered, his voice dry and raspy. "Alfred, I'm sorry for what I said, just please comeback. I don't want to be alone anymore..." The brit couldn't stop himself from falling to his side in the middle of a clearing, eyes unfocused and lips blue. He stared lazily at the sky, something about this area looking familiar, but the numbing cold took the memory away. He could feel his conscious slipping; he knew that if he fell asleep now, he would probably never wake up.

He didn't mind though.

Alfred was dead, what was the point of living now.

He had no one left; everyone he had ever cared about was dead. There was no point.

There was a ruffling in the bushes, probably some wild animal. The ruffling got louder and closer, but Arthur didn't care; he was a dead man anyway. But there was no wild animal. He heard a voice; a strange English-ish voice. He turned his head with all of his might, expending all his energy in doing so.

He saw a face, a familiar face. A face very similar to his. Green eyes, thick eyes brows, high cheek bones. The man had a bow and arrow in his hands as if he was going to shoot at him. Arthur didn't care, not one bit. The mysterious man must've noticed the similarities between them, the obvious like ancestry. He spoke, his accent deep.

"Arthur?" He ran up to the frail body, lifting the brit and cradling his head. "Arthur is that you!?" He cried out, his hot tears spilling onto the dying man's face. The blonde smiled, finally recognizing the man before him; he wasn't alone anymore. Arthur felt his heart beat slowing, he knew he didn't have long. He spoke, perhaps for the last time, calling out to his older brother.

"Dylan..."

~~~~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~~~

Arthur woke up to the sound of yelling. He was warm, and buried under piles of blankets, the scent of the prince he was tirelessly looking for wafted into his nostrils. He opened his lids hesitantly, hissing silently when the bright light of the evening made contact with his eyes. He was in the prince's room again, and he was in the presence of both princes and Elizabeta. The three were currently arguing, and from what the brit could understand, Matthew and Elizabeta were arguing against the prince.

"How can you be so reckless as to let him out!?" Matthew yelled, pacing the room. "Anyone who knows anything knows that you always tell your mate where you are going to prevent situations like this! Arthur isn't familiar to the area; you can't just fucking leave him to his own damn vices!"

"I didn't let him out! I went to my office to do some fucking work and when I came back, the fucking door was open and no one was inside. I LOOKED EVERY FUCKING WHERE, SO DON'T YOU FUCKING- "Alfred's voice was cracking, the distress in his voice audible. He heard the prince start to pant and breath heavily in an attempt to hold back the tears.

"I didn't know... that he would just run away like that. We had an argument, but it wasn't even that big of a deal. It was STUPID! I WAS JUST BEING STUPID! I-I-I..."

He began to cry, burying his face in his mate's shoulder. Arthur was beyond shocked, his own eyes watering. How could he have been so stupid?! Why did he jump to the worst case scenario!? Arthur was about to speak when the Hungarian maid began to say something.

"What was the argument about? It may not have been a big deal to you, but it might have been huge to Arthur... Alfred, you need to acknowledge that this is very much your fault. " She said softly. She looked like she had been crying too, scared that her friend would lose his life. Alfred shook his head 'no', not wanting to share that information. Matthew huffed, flicking the American behind the head.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'NO'?! YOU found him minutes away from death, Alfred. Whatever you did, it was enough for him to have to dig around for you!" Arthur had had enough; he was tired of the way they were ganging up on his prince.

"Stop yelling at him like that, you're not helping the situation." And with that, the brit entered the conversation. He sat up slowly, leaning against the American for support. He muscles felt like plywood, and his head hurt a little too, but beside that he felt fine, so this argument didn't need to progress any further. Three pairs of arms quickly wrapped around the brit, squealing with joy.

"Arthur, are you okay?!" Matthew asked caressing the brit's cheek with a gloved hand. Arthur leaned into the friendly gesture and nodded. Elizabeta squeezed the brit tightly, placing kisses all over his face.

"Arthur you scared me. Why would you do anything like?!" she asked, her eyes watering. Arthur had no acceptable answer to that question. What would he say? 'I thought the prince jumped out the window?' that was ridiculous. He decided to tell the truth, he had nothing to lose.

"I went looking for Alfred because he wasn't there when I got out of the bathroom. It's not his fault... we just had an argument and so I just expected him to be there when I woke up. Well, he wasn't and I got worried, so I started to walk around the room. I noticed the open window, and somehow, for some unknown reason, I thought he must have jumped or fell or something." The brit chuckled at the last part, finally hearing how ridiculous it sounded. Alfred's face remained buried in the Englishman's shoulder, not saying a word. In fact, he hadn't said a word at all since he had 'woken' up.

"I ran outside to look for him, but I got a little lost before I got to the clearing under our window. I was going to turn back, but then I saw your glasses and I-I-I-I panicked. I thought that y-y-you did fall and that..." warm tears escaped from the corners of his eyes. The brit found himself throwing his arms around his prince, crying lightly into the American's hair. "I thought you did jump, so I started freaking out and looking for your body. It got really cold, but I didn't care because I thought it was my fault."

Matthew and Elizabeta nodded with understanding, but Alfred remained still, the only movement he made was wrapping his arms around the brit and pulling him closer. Arthur breathed in his scent, needing to have it drown all of his senses. He never thought he would miss someone so much, and it had only been a few hours. At least he thought.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"4 days. You really had us worried." Elizabeta said with a sniffle.

"When did you find me?" Arthur asked the prince in his arms. Alfred didn't answer.

"He found you 6 hours after he found you were missing." Matthew answered instead. "It's a wonder your still alive, it was freezing that knight, and you were not wearing much. How did you get that deep into the forest without any light?"

"I felt around." Arthur lied. He decided to himself that he wasn't going to tell anyone about his brother, not even Alfred. He could handle one Kirkland, a useless one at that, but he couldn't handle a Kirkland who was as avid a military leader as their father. Arthur couldn't help but smile in hope that maybe more of his brothers survived the assassination attempts; maybe they were all alive, biding their time to strike the fortress.

That would explain why Dylan was in the area, he was probably scouting. The others noticed his smile widen, light confusion gracing their faces. The brit's smile dropped.

"Maybe I'm just lucky."

~~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~~

When Matthew and Elizabeta left, it was around 8 PM. Alfred was still buried in the brit's shoulder and hadn't muttered a single word. Arthur was beyond worried, never seeing the prince like this.

"Alfred? Are you alright?" the brit tried to start conversation again for the fifth time this hour. Alfred nodded weakly before repositioning his neck. "Alfred, you're really beginning to worry me." Arthur peeled away from the American, who fought against it. The brit was unable to overpower the other and just accepted his fate as his alpha's pillow.

"I'm sorry, Alfie." The brit deadpanned. He regretted everything that lead to this situation, hating himself for upsetting the other. "I just, I just lost my temper over nothing and I said things that I shouldn't have... I'm sorry for leaving the room. I'm sorry for almost getting myself killed. I'm sorry for-"

"Shh, Artie, you have nothing to be sorry about. I was being an idiot and I shouldn't have said what I said either. I made it sound like I was paying Elizabeta to be your friend or something." Alfred said for the first time in the last few hours. Arthur shook his head but the American insisted. "It's all my fault, I'm an awful person." Before the brit could argue, the American confessed.

"I'm so sorry for everything! I didn't think you would get so worried. I'm an idiot, I don't deserve someone as amazing as you."

Arthur skipped a beat, his heart swelling. Arthur was tired of being the big spoon, and shifted until his face was buried in the other's chest. The pressure in his heart subsided a little, knowing that the prince was doing his best. "You came looking for me, most people would have forgotten about me." He kissed the American's neck softly.

"I left in such a hurry to go find you that I forgot to tell the guards, so I was just racing around on Magnus alone to find you. You were 4 miles away from the fortress. How in the name of god did you get that far?" Alfred pulled back far enough just to see each other's faces. Alfred's eyes were red and puffy, and his cheeks were flushed. He looked both mentally and physically exhausted. "You were so torn up, that you almost bled out before we got back home. You really scared me, Arthur." He whispered.

"I'm sorry" he whispered back.

"Please don't do that ever again. I love you too much to see you in that much pain." The American yawned, eyes shutting as if he were about ready to pass out. Arthur's heart began to beat a mile a minute, staring at the sleeping person next to him. He pushed his face back into the American's neck before whispering one last time, before he went to sleep.

"I love you too."

* * *

3 weeks later...

Arthur woke up with a start, cold sweat dripping from his body and his heart beating so fast that he feared that the organ would leap from his body.

Arthur peeled himself from the alpha's grip and got out of bed slowly, not wanting to disturb the American. He walked quickly to the bathroom and wash lit a candle, illuminating the room. He found some unused water in a bucket and dipped his hands in, noting the temperature. He scooped some cold water in his hands and brought it to his face, rinsing it lightly. He looked up at the mirror and stared at the water droplets running off his cheeks or hanging from his eye lashes, noting his appearance.

His hair had grown longer, now at shoulder length, but the blond mess looked thicker and impossible to control. The Englishman tried to rake his hands through his hair and found that it was knotted and tangled at the ends. It would be a pain to fix it, he didn't need all that hair. He left the bathroom and slowly crept to the prince's closet, well, actually, his closet now. He opened the last dresser and pulled out his dagger, he would be needing it tonight.

He reentered the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror again. He grabbed a lock of hair and pulled it taught in a downward motion. He wanted to be very precise. He cut off a good 5 ½ inches of hair, leaving it just under his ears. He made the same cut to every lock of hair and looked at the finished product in the mirror. He liked it, but, it could be better. He picked up the dagger again and brought it to his face, carefully cutting his bangs just a little shorter. He looked at his reflection and whistled.

Perfection.

He ran his fingers through his hair, playing around with it. It was much easier to deal with; his fingers were no longer getting caught. He smiled at his reflection, feeling a bit more comfortable. His hair was huge before, the first thing anyone would notice. But now, people would notice his eyes, according to Alfred, his very pretty eyes. He wore his hair; it no longer wore him.

He blew out the candle and exited the bathroom, returning the dagger to his dresser. He crept back into bed slowly, not wanting to bother the sleeping prince, who looked like he needed the sleep. Arthur gently repositioned the American's arm around his waist again, and buried his face into his chest. This is how they normally slept, pressed against each other. Arthur liked it very much, it made him feel safe, but he could tell Alfred liked it even more. The prince had confided in him about his constant nightmares, which led to him overworking and his slight coffee addiction.

Alfred told him that having him there to sleep next too makes it all feel better, and that he hadn't had a single nightmare since he started sleeping with him.

On the same bed, not sex, you pervert.

There are rumors about them being mates, which isn't entirely false. They love each other, Arthur thinks, but they just haven't mated. They find each other rather attractive, and at this point, if they could mate, Arthur's about 70% sure that he would be on board. But they can't no matter how mentally ready Arthur and Alfred are; the brit's body isn't ready.

Not only is he a little thin, not too much, maybe a pound or two underweight, but he has also never gone into heat.

Which is concerning at his age, and a bit dangerous as an omega.

It's basically an omega's job to make kids, one way or another. The average person gets their first heat when they reach puberty; 13 for boys, 10-12 for girls. Arthur is very late, seeing that he is 20 years old. When omegas can't have children, they are discarded, no questions asked. They would be completely useless, so they would be left out to die or make their own living. The latter rarely happened though, since most alpha mates are territorial and cruel to their omega counterpart, they maim the poor omega fatally, then discard them in the middle of nowhere so the chances of them finding a new mate is almost impossible.

That's how Arthur's parents met, actually. Igraine was thought to be barren, so her first husband shattered her legs and dropped her in the forest in the dead of winter. Uther Kirkland was luckily hunting in the area, and took her home, patching her up and befriending her. They fell in love, got married, had kids etc. but most omegas aren't that lucky, and if they do survive, or are left to find their own living, they are almost always forced into prostitution.

They had no choice, they wouldn't get hired by anyone once they realize that she or he was a barren omega. There is this stigma around it, for reasons Arthur doesn't understand, and they would be left on the streets to be raped or murdered. They would turn to brothels for help, seeing that they needed protection, and the head mistress would give them sanctuary. All brothels are made up with at least 75% of their escorts being omegas, a statistic that scares Arthur.

Alfred is a prince, an American prince who wants to mate with a British nobody. When he's king, he'll be expected to marry and the chances are that no one will give the couple their blessing, making their marriage in the eyes of the people invalid. If they even get married. For all Arthur knows, the second the queen disapproves, the prince would marry someone else. The brit's heart tightened at the thought of it, but he had to be realistic. Alfred doesn't love him enough to risk his kingship.

Arthur still hasn't told him about Dylan.

And the second he finds out that Arthur never had a heat, he wouldn't hesitate to dump him. Or worse.

Arthur didn't realize he was crying until he felt soft kissing on the top of his head, and heard soft humming in his ears. He looked up at the worried eyes of his prince, and tried to apologize. He knew Alfred needed his sleep; the prince was working nonstop to prepare for his impending coronation. He had been huddled up in his office for days, taking short naps beside Arthur before returning to his office. The brit had begged the American to take a break before he passed out or something, promising that sleeping a full 8 hours would do him good.

But here he was now, preventing the sleep deprived prince of his well-deserved break.

"Artie, what's wrong sweetie?" the prince asked lazily, propping himself on his elbow. The prince was met with silence, the brit turning around to face the wall. He didn't want to express his fears, considering they met just a month ago. The prince would dump him for being clingy rather than all the secrets he has been keeping. The Englishman flinched away from the American's touch when the prince attempted to touch his hair. Arthur could feel the hurt radiating off of the other, but Arthur was just trying to avoid a dreadful situation.

"Why are you crying, Arthur? I'm worried." The prince sat up, placing a firm hand on the Englishman's shoulder. The brit pulled away quickly and buried himself under the woolen blanket they shared. Arthur had never done this before, but his insecurities were just piling up during the last few days. He felt a soft tug on the blanket, but it was hesitant, the prince was losing steam, now was his chance.

"Alfie, I don't want to talk about it right now... can you just drop it already?"

There was a soft hum before the American sighed. "Yeah, yeah I'll drop it, just come here." His voice was soft and understanding. Arthur unravel himself from the blanket and returned to the prince's arms with a sigh and an apology. They went to sleep in each other's arms, but the air was different, they were tense and uncomfortable. Arthur knew that Alfred would find him in the morning, and that a conversation was going to be had.

~~~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~~~

Arthur woke up in an empty bed, but the he could still feel the other's warmth on the pillow beside him. He had just gotten up.

"Alfie, are you in here?" The brit called out, rubbing his eyes lazily.

"Yes, I'll be out in a second" the prince yelled back from the bathroom, his voice cheery. Today was Tuesday, meaning it was the prince's unofficial off day, which Arthur demanded he take every week. He regretted it now, not wanting to talk. A lot has changed over the past few weeks, and Arthur hasn't been himself. He felt lost and insecure, and all he managed to do was make himself feel worse by refusing help. He heard the bathroom door open, and the prince walked out with nothing but boxers, a thin smile on his face. The brit smiled back identically.

Alfred sat down beside the Englishman and stroked his face which the brit allowed this time around. He leaned into the touch like a cat while the American got more comfortable. The prince sat with his back leaned against the bedframe, gently pulling his hand away. Arthur figured play time was over.

"Artie, I don't know what came over you last night, but don't push me away." The prince's voice was sad and solemn, his eyes were low too, and he looked like he had lived through a war. Well he has, but that's beside the point. He looked depressed and distant, and it was all the brit's fault.

"I'm sorry." The brit deadpanned, much colder than he intended it to be. He could see the American's eyes flicker between every emotion before settling on the blond brit next to him. They looked expectant. Arthur ignored the look and turned his head to any other direction, suddenly finding the wallpaper really fascinating.

"Arthur... what happened? You haven't been yourself since the visit..." The American spoke softly, discouraged by the brit's behavior. Arthur ignored him again; maybe he'll go away? There was silence, and Arthur preferred it that way. He knew himself better than anyone, if he were to look at the American now, he'd tell him everything. Than the American would hate him.

Arthur couldn't lose him.

Arthur was too lost in thought to notice the American lean towards him, close enough for them to make instant eye contact. Fuck. They were staring at each other, with worn eyes, looking into each other's soul. Arthur could see the desperation in Alfred's eyes; he could see the love, the pain, the frustration, the confusion... Arthur could only imagine what the other saw in his. Probably guilt, and deceit.

"Arthur...?" the American grumbled, stroking the brit's face once more. "What happened? We were so happy... was it something I said? Did I fail you in any..."

"I lied to you... in so many ways and..." Arthur finally confessed, slapping the other's hand away. The brit sat up and threw his legs over the bed, just about ready to run. Before he could take a step, he was pulled back by the waist and turned around. Before the brit could protest, he was pulled back down to the mattress and pinned under the prince.

The prince no longer looked desperate, instead he looked offended, angry, hurt and dangerous. Arthur closed his eyes, trying to conceal the tears that were threatening to fall. He heard humming, it was soft, and it had a little tune; his mother sang it to him all the time. He had taught it to Alfred when he had woken up screaming from a night terror. The song calmed the prince down, and since then, they would sing it to the other if they were feeling down.

Arthur squeezed his eye lids tighter and pursed his lips, which began to shake uncontrollably. Why was he being so sweet? He should be yelling, not trying to cheer him up. Arthur felt the prince kiss his forehead, which only made the brit feel worse. "Arthur" the prince started, "please tell me what's wrong."

Arthur couldn't take it anymore; he couldn't hold it in.

"I... let's start from the beginning. My name is Arthur Kirkland, and my parents and younger brother Peter are most likely dead. I'm 20 years old, I'm British, and for the last 3 years I've been living in the tunnels of London..." Arthur started to pant, getting himself into deeper water. He had no choice but to be honest, the prince was putting his life on the line for him. It wasn't fair to keep secrets. As for Alfred, he remained quiet but he was listening intently.

"I-I... and I have never experienced a heat..." The brit trailed off, opening his eyes in time to see the American's reaction. Alfred's eyes widened and his mouth hung open. His face began to contort into multiple expressions, each not lasting more than a second. His face settled into a worried one, as he continued to stare, leaning down briskly to place a quick peck on the brit's cheek. The Englishman was shocked to say the least, and he looked at the American as if he was alien.

"You aren't upset?" Arthur whispered barely enough for the prince to hear. Alfred shook his head and smiled lovingly at the brit before him. "Why not? Is it because..." Arthur suddenly started to freak out once more, thrashing and crying out. "LET GO! LET GO OF ME YOU... YOU..." this was out of nowhere, and the prince was taken off guard. He fell over and the brit leaped from the bed and ran towards the door, not believing he fell for this.

Before he was out of the door, strong arms pulled him by the waist again and dragged him, screaming to the bed. The American looked confused and annoyed as he tried to figure out what was happening. He must think Arthur is stupid!

"I SAID I DIDN'T CARE THAT YOU WERE STERILE! WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THIS!" The prince sounded distressed, as the brit in his arms stopped struggling and leaned against him in exhaustion. Alfred kissed the back of his head and began to hum again, but the brit began to speak.

"You don't care because you weren't planning on staying with me forever. You weren't planning on having kids with me; maybe a rough fuck, but nothing more. You going to get a spouse that's prettier than me, and healthier than me and not fucking English. Then you are gonna have a bunch of fucking little Americans running around your pretty little fucking castle. If I'm lucky, you'll let me leave here alive and recommend me to your favorite fucking brothel and visit once a fucking week. So I'll no longer be your 'sweetie' but I'll still be your harlot!" The Englishman was sobbing, and sounded like a dying whale but he didn't care, it needed to be said, the prince's plot needed to be foiled. "And to think- "

"STOP, WHAT THE FUCK!? What the hell is wrong with you?! I don't CARE THAT YOU ARE FUCKING STERILE BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THE FUCK! Who do you think I am anyway!? Do you really think I would do that to you? To anyone?" The prince sounded horrified, like that was the most offensive thing anyone had ever said to him. Arthur turned to face him and looked him in the eye. He didn't look like he was lying; he looked sincere. Arthur let the relief was over him and he relaxed in the American's grip, shaking slightly.

Alfred never told the brit that he had loved him. Well, that one night didn't count because he wasn't very conscious of what he was saying. Arthur looked up at the prince in awe. "Do you actually love me?" he needed to be sure if he was going to tell the American anything else. He also just wanted to hear it again. The prince nodded before cupping the other's cheeks and kissing him.

"I love you so much, you had me scared for a minute Arthur." The prince chuckled weakly, already drained and the day just started. "Is there anything else you want to tell me? Just let it all out." He said encouragingly, looking at the pink brit. Arthur nodded.

"So are you planning on marrying me?" Arthur asked quietly, fear of himself looking clingy and insane. Alfred's eyes widened and his face paled a little, but he recovered quickly enough for the brit not to go on another tirade. He nodded, swallowing lightly.

"Yeah, sometime after my coronation. I'll propose, be all romantic, and woo you into my arms." He said with a smile, holding the brit by the waist and hand and beginning to waltz.

"But you're going to be king, don't you need heirs?"

"We could adopt; it wouldn't be the first time. Or, my niece or nephew could take over, not really a big deal."

"What if the public is opposed to it? What if your mother is opposed to it?" Arthur asked hurriedly as he stared at their feet, trying to follow along without falling. Alfred hummed cockily and chuckled.

"My people have no say in who rules, whatever they try will be stopped by me. My mother, on the other hand... it would be nice to have her blessing, but I don't need her permission... Hey? What's with all these wedding questions? Is it because of Matthew and Francis?"

Arthur nodded, about a week ago the French king came over to take Matthew with him and prepare him for their wedding. Francis told him about how they were mates but were separated because of an overprotective parent. That had Arthur thinking about how many people would actually approve of their relationship, and he felt unsure about his future. Looking back now, that was probably the seed for all of his current insecurities, that fear.

"Your dad kept Francis away from Matthew for 6 years; what if your mom separates us?" Arthur whimpered. "She could do it for any reason she wants: because I'm British, because I'm male, because I'm a Kirkland, because I can't have kids... I would just prefer it if my future was more stable is all." He admitted at last.

"Is that why you were upset last night?" Alfred asked as he twirled the brit around. The Englishman nodded sadly as he spun. "Well, she can't separate us because by the time I propose, I'll already be king. Okay sweetie?" he pulled the brit in and kissed him lovingly.

"Yes, but..."

"No buts, I'm yours."


	7. Chapter 7

**12 hours later...**

Arthur opened his eyes, blinking wildly at what he was seeing. He was on a farm, and looking down at himself, he could tell he wasn't any younger.

So it wasn't the same as the last weird dream he had.

He wore the same nightgown he had when he had fallen asleep that night. It was made of blue silk, and thankfully it wasn't nearly as revealing as the other nightgowns he had worn. Even though, the dress was still intimate, and Arthur would prefer it if no one he went across in this weird dream would notice him.

The brit was in a barn, but there were no animals. Instead, the stall doors had charts and documents pinned to them. He walked up to the first door he had seen and read. It was obviously a map, but there were clipped instructions attached to the corner, written in weird shapes and symbols; somehow he knew it was addressed to him.

 _Dear Arthur,_

 _You are probably confused and a little scared. You will probably believe this was some weird dream that you should just forget about; don't. This isn't a dream. You are asleep, yes, but you're not dreaming._

 _You could've died that night._

 _You should've froze to death, but you managed to stay alive for hours, even after Dylan had found you. You are alive because of one thing: Magic._

 _I know this sounds ridiculous, but is there any other explanation? We've been watching you for a while now, Arthur. You had survived living on the streets, the plague, assaults, hypothermia... a normal man would hardly be able to survive even one of those, yet alone all._

 _The Kirkland family has a powerful pedigree of magic users, be it witches, wizards or magicians. In fact, you wouldn't be able to even read this note if powerful magic wasn't coursing through your veins._

 _Who are we? How would we have been able to have to watch over you for as long as we have?_

The note ended there. When Arthur flipped the paper, nothing was there either, it was completely blank. He cursed. He still had so many questions, none of which had been answered. He walked around to other stools, looking for more possible notes, but he found none. Only vague battle strategies that would only make sense if you knew the area.

He walked towards the door of the barn, figuring that he had to leave the old wooden structure and look for someone. Preferably the person who wrote the note in the first place, they seemed to be knowledgeable. He pushed the door, but it wouldn't budge. He pushed again, harder this time, but all he got in return was creaking and sawdust falling into his hair. The door was a no-go.

He looked around the building and found that it had a second layer, and a window, the only window. He needed to get to that window. But how? There wasn't a ladder in sight, was he supposed to climb up there? He'd break his neck. He swore again, sizing up the situation in his head.

He knew that he needed to get to the second story of this barn. He knew there is no ladder. He could try scaling the wall, but if he were to fall, he'd hurt himself and break a bone. Even if his climbing skills were up to par, the building is old, and applying too much weight while climbing would cause him to fall too, leading to the same result. There are a bunch of boxes, perhaps they're stackable...even then he would have to make an impressive leap to the second story, and it didn't look too stable. There was no rational way of getting up safely.

Arthur slowly approached one of the stalls and opened it, seeing a pile of books laying on some hay. He picked one up titled 'The Sovereign History of the Principalities of Magick'. Interesting title, Arthur had to admit, but it probably had little to do with his cause. He put the book aside and lifted another, which also had an interesting title but had little relevance. He sorted through all of the books in the stall, not finding a single one useful. He entered another stall, only to find the same books. He entered another one, then another one, and then another.

They all had the same books.

He swore lightly when he found it was no use, taking a seat on the floor of one of the stalls in defeat. He sat there contemplating how long he would have to wait there for someone. Would it be until he was woken up in real life? Or would he be stuck in a coma until he could complete whatever it was he was supposed to do?Alfred had just told him he loved him, why does he have to go through all of this? He could just imagine Alfred's face if he were to wake up to see the brit in a coma. He would be heartbroken.

The Englishman could feel his eyes water, so to distract himself, he picked up that book about the principalities, and began to read.

 _The Principalities of Magick are their own sovereign nations now, after the war. The bloody war of cards, also known as Bellum Pecto, divided the deck into four suits: Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs, and Spades. The war, ultimately, was fought over a misunderstanding, instigated by the Jokers._

 _In the beginning, when all the suits identified as a single political being, there was a single king, and four noble houses: The Bonnefoy, the Beilschmidt, the Braginski, and the Jones._

 _The King was very powerful, but his power was limited by the four houses. The King himself would be chosen randomly, a shuffle you may say. He could be from any of the four houses, but he would only be chosen once every couple generations. Until the next king was chosen, the position was hereditary. This temporarily gave that house more power than an individual house, but if the houses united, they were about equal to the king._

 _The houses, however, weren't friendly to one another, and went out of their way to make each other's campaigns more difficult, but they were always respectful to the king. They acknowledged the value of the king's favor, so they would pool their wealth to fill the general coffers and aid the poor when times were tough. They each went out of their way to maintain the peace within the empire, finding ways to make everyone happy while achieving their goals. This worked in the Deck._

 _To avoid the king from getting too much power, the Virgam ex Vicis, or the staff of fortune, would be rotated between houses every year, making the annual event a holiday. Until every house received the staff once, no house would have it twice. That was the system that they used, and it worked for a millennium._

 _Until one day, a Joker was announced._

 _It was very rare for a joker to be born, but they were always born in one of the four noble houses. A joker was a very powerful being in the Deck, being able to take the place of any position that was empty. Having a Joker was the greatest advantage if the chosen King were to die without an heir; they would automatically take the throne._

 _That was the case for Gilbert Beilschmidt, the oldest male child of the Duke. He was announced as a Joker during a meeting, days before the Chosen King, a Jones, died. He was to be placed on the throne within the year as the first Beilschmidt to rule in the last 300 years._

 _Members of the Jones house called foul play._

 _George Jones I and the rest of his house campaigned against the new king, saying that the proximity of the death of the king and the discovery of Gilbert being a Joker was too close to be a coincidence. He quickly gained support from several provinces, scaring the Beilschmidt house. So, Gilbert did the only thing he could do: take the Virgam ex Vicis and hide it._

 _When the Braginski's found the Virgam ex Vicis missing, they went into a frenzy, first accusing the Jones of stealing it. Their claim was that the Jones were just power hungry, that they would do whatever it took to get what they wanted. This infuriated George thoroughly, declaring that the Braginski and Beilschmidt houses were in on this plot together, that they would do anything to cover their trail. The people began to choose sides, fighting amongst themselves over who should really be the next king. The remaining houses were being pressured in every direction to choose a position, or else they would be replaced._

 _The Allied alliance of the Jones and Bonnefoy was eventually formed, their opposite being the Axis, the remaining houses. They didn't segregate, they all identified as a citizen of the same Deck, their relationship strained but not broken. Some were optimistic that the houses would be able to make amends, but their opinions changed after the hit weighing over the King's head was finally made. The Youthful King Beilschmidt was assassinated the eve of his coronation._

 _This marked the final Schism in the nation._

 _Towns and houses were set on fire, nobles chased out. There was civil strife throughout the nation for centuries until the houses, or what was left of them, signed a treaty. The houses were now a mere shell of their former glory, barely being able to control the masses. The four decided to go their own ways, becoming the four suits. Each Kingdom emphasized on different things, which will be discussed in later chapters._

 _They decided to sign that treaty because they found the late king Gilbert's old journal in a hidden room in the Old Capital. Turned out tricky King Gilbert hid the staff to cause a distraction great enough to keep everyone off of his case until he was crowned, unwittingly causing mischief. He shared his remorse, promising he would return it as soon as the coast was clear. He never stated where the staff was hidden, and it remains a mystery to this day._

 _The houses apologized to each other, attempting to make things work how it had before. That was impossible though, too many lives lost from each side prohibited that from happening. That was why they formed different kingdoms, only speaking to another suit when they had to._

Arthur was thoroughly pleased with that passage, a little baffled that it was just the prologue. He liked this book, it was safe to say that it was his new favorite, so he cradled it in his arms. From the one window in the entire barn, he could see the sun setting, the entire day slipping by so quickly. The brit sighed heavily, the tears coming back.

When was he going home?

* * *

 **12 hours earlier...**

Alfred and Arthur were wrapped in each other's arms, cuddling and chatting about anything and everything. Alfred was currently telling the brit about the time he went streaking across the shoreline of the beach near his castle, and how his father almost gouged his eyes out for it. The brit's eyes were tearing up with laughter, heaving from the lack of air.

"And then what happened?" the Englishman said through teary eyes.

"My mother walked in, and let me tell you, it wasn't a pretty sight!" he sighed nostalgically. "She came in just in time to see him press the spoons against my eyes like a mad man. She grabbed the nearest thing to her, which was a vase, and threw it at his head!" the brit was now in a fit, laughing and shaking wildly. Alfred could listen to the brit laugh forever, the cheery, smooth sound was music to his ears.

"What did your father do?" he asked breathlessly, settling down from his high. The brit pulled away from the American momentarily, repositioning himself so the back of his head was in the crook of the prince's neck. Alfred sniffed the brit laying on top of him and smiled, noting the way his own scent lingered on the small blonde.

"Well, uh, I think he yelled in agony. Then the guards came in and escorted me and my mother out. She spent the night with me and Matthew like the 'old times'" he paused to make finger quotes. "And my parents didn't speak for a week." He concluded his story with a smile. It was weird talking about his father like this, knowing that they wouldn't have any more times like that. His heart ached a little, but he had to be strong, for everyone.

He had shipped his father's body to America a few weeks ago to be buried in the castle. Francis had been opposed to it, saying that it would reek of death and decay before it got there. Alfred was indifferent, burying him here or there wouldn't change the fact that he was gone, so he asked Matthew. His brother told him to mummify the body, which they ended up starting. The rest of the process would have to be done on the ship on the way home.

He was still angry though, not letting his initial grief slow down his momentum of finding those outlaws that tried to kill him. After his father's body, and all his other knight's bodies, were recovered, he sent his best out again to investigate and track the men who did this. He gave them a description of the knight he lost up against; it was vague but it would prove useful. He also told them to be on the lookout for the Arthur's brother, Peter. Alfred noticed how the brit wouldn't talk about him, or even mention finding him anymore.

The brit had given up, and that broke the prince's heart.

But he had enough patience and determination to find the boy for the both of them. Meanwhile, around the fortress, tensions are high because people are about ready to snitch. Whoever the ringleader was, they were losing their grip over the others each day, and it wouldn't be long for a greedy knight to come forth and spill his guts all over the table.

"ALFRED, WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME LIKE THAT!?"

Alfred snapped his attention to the very pink brit, who was currently hiding the worst of his blush behind his hands. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable, but also really adorable. Alfred chuckled an apology, which earned him a soft growl in response. Alfred hummed, thoroughly amused.

"I'm sorry, I must have gotten lost in your eyes."

He grabbed the brit by the arms and pulled him into his lap, making the brit face him. He pulled the hands away from Arthur's face and stared lovingly at the intense red on the brit's cheek. The Englishman, despite himself, leaned down and initiated a heated kiss with the alpha. Alfred kissed back, of course, equal in passion and wrapped his arms around the brit's waist, pulling him closer. Arthur moaned lightly, pulling away slightly to nibble on the prince's lip.

"I love you"

"I love you too, Artie"

 _Knock, Knock, knock_

Alfred let out a curse, glaring at the door. "Who is it?" he called out loud enough. No response was made, only more knocking. Arthur got off the American and made his way to the door, pulling it open slightly and poking his head through, hiding his body. The brit looked great, and the red nightgown he wore wasn't very revealing, but the prince was glad he hid himself from the lustful eyes of the maid or whoever was at the door.

Arthur had gotten much thicker than the first time they had met, his curves now huggable without the fear of breaking him. He had a very feminine body if you asked him, but you could still tell that he was a dude. Especially now that he cut his hair. Alfred was glad that he let the mane go, it was hard to run his fingers through it. Now his hair was as silky as the rest of him. His pale color hardly changed though, so the prince figured it was his natural pigment. It wasn't a bad shade, in fact, it made him look like one of those porcelain dolls his mother always collected; with his big, bright green eyes and his cute, perfect smile.

"Alfred, breakfast is here."

The maid set up the two some breakfast, speeding so she could get out of there. It was probably because of the brit. Before the Englishman graced the fortress with his presence, the female help would linger in his room when it came to simple tasks like dusting or setting up breakfast. Well, now not so much, considering his relationship with the brit isn't a secret. She was probably jealous, confused, maybe even hurt. All of his maids were, he could tell, but Arthur didn't notice because he hadn't known them before.

Whatever, as long as Arthur didn't know. If he did, he would feel bad because he was way too compassionate, a trait the American wished he still possessed. The maid left before he knew it, leaving the two to eat their food. Nothing special, just sausage, egg and some apple slices. Arthur loved apple slices, seeing that they were easier to chew on. Alfred had no preference, as long as the brit was comfortable.

~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

He was so bored. They were currently sitting on the bed in pleasant silence, reading silently to themselves. On a day like this, he would normally be in the indoor practice room training or sharpening his swords. He handled all of his equipment himself to ensure that it received the best treatment. However, Arthur looked so comfortable here in his arms, and he didn't look as if he wanted to move.

Maybe...

"Hey Arthur, after this..." Alfred hesitated, now a bit nervous at the thought. Why would Arthur want to do that with him? He regretted even opening his mouth when he saw the expectant look in the brit's eyes. Alfred shook his head with a slight blush. Dammit. "Never mind" he said with a frustrated sigh. Arthur quirked his brow in curiosity before placing a hand on the other's thigh.

"What is it?" he asked gently. Alfred shook his head again, only for the brit to press on. "Oh c'mon Alfred, if you want us to do something, we can. Unless... you don't want to spend the day with me?" he too sounded hesitant, albeit, a bit hurt. Alfred quickly shot down his insecurity with wild 'no's and 'what's.

"It's just... do you, maybe, wanna watch me train? It's been a while, and I'm available... I don't need to; I could always do it another day." Alfred was rambling, but the smile on the brit's face broadened the more he spoke. Arthur finally hushed him with his finger and hummed dramatically.

"Well, it depends... are you going to teach me any self-defense?"

Huh?  
"Oh, well... yeah" he said with a shrug. "Why not, actually?" the smile on the brit's face was priceless as he hopped of the bed. Heading straight for the dressers.

"Well what are we waiting for then!"

~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~

"OWWW!"

The brit landed on his back with a groan, panting as he tried to catch his breath. Alfred walked over to him and offered a hand, which the brit refused to take. "I don't need your pity, I'm fine!" He rolled over on to his stomach and pushed himself up. When the brit looked to be steady, shaking slightly on his feet, Alfred returned to his previous position on the other side of the room.

"Arthur, I don't want you to press yourself too hard..." Alfred stated worriedly, noting the way the brit looked. His hair was sticking to his face and his back was hunched over. His eyes were unfocused and he was breathing heavily, but nevertheless he kept getting up all determined and stuff. He reminded him a little of himself when he first started out.

The American wanted to stop, sparring proving to be a horrible idea. The Englishman was hell bent on it though, and wouldn't let up. The brit had told him 'not to go easy' which the American ignored entirely. However, even at his worse, he was still better than the brit, who looked about ready to pass out.

"I'm fine... I just... give me a second to..." Arthur walked away from the prince and sat down on a bench, holding onto his side. "Ow, Alfie... that one actually hurt... like a lot"

Shit

The American rushed over to him with a bottle of water and sat down beside him. Before he could hand it to him, the brit slumped over onto Alfred and groaned again, resting his head on the muscular lap of the prince. "Artie, sweetie, you need to drink some of this, it's going to help." He tried pouring the water into the other's mouth, but the brit kept spitting it up.

He wasn't reacting very well.

"Hey, Artie... swallow it for me," the prince pushed the bottle into his mouth. "look it's already in your mouth, you might as well." he tried to sound as convincing as possible. Arthur groaned again, spitting the water out, but this time accidentally all over the American's shirt. "Aww, c'mon Artie! On me? Of all places you could've spit it out!"

"Sorry" he said as he coughed. His face was red; he was over heated.

"It's fine, just" the prince looked down at the water in his hand, "I'll just put this here..." he trailed off as he pulled off his own shirt and soaked it in the freezing water. He then removed the other's shirt and dabbed the wet cloth on him. The Englishman gasped as the American rubbed the cloth over his body, panting harder and faster.

"Alfred... stop!" the brit said with a scowl, swatting at the prince's hand.

"Arthur, this is for your own good- "

"HE SAID STOP IT, LEAVE MY BABY ALONE!"

There was a flash of black before the American was knocked out of his seat on the bench onto the floor. To say the least, the prince was winded, eyes so blurry he could hardly make out any shapes. He could hear faint pleads come from the brit, but he heard the accusations shot towards him even louder.

"HOW DARE YOU! ARTHUR ISNT SOME CHEAP FUCK, YOU TREAT YOUR MATE WITH RESPECT. IF HE DOESN'T WANNA HAVE SEX THEN DON'T MAKE HIM! AND IN HERE OF ALL PLACES HOW DARE YOU!?" the accent was thick, an accent he had heard a lot more frequently around his presence.

"Elizabeta, please stop it! We weren't doing anything." The brit said as he limped his way over to the prince, mildly horrified. "Honestly, what did I say about jumping to conclusions? You need to be more careful about where you swing that thing!"

What thing?

As his vision began to return to him, Alfred began to make out a large black object in the Hungarian's hand. Was that... a frying pan? His head was pulsing and the back of his head felt sticky. He moved one of his hands to feel the back of his head, but it was met with the brit's hand already there, applying pressure. It must have been an open wound.

 _Alfred look out!_

"What?"

 _Alfred, I thought I told you stay away from this place! George! Guards!_

"Wait, what?"

"Alfred we didn't say anything. But we need to get you to the infirmary."

 _Get him to the infirmary! Get him inside, quickly!_

"Alfred are you alright? Can you stand?"

 _Goddammit George! Hurry up! Alfred, don't you dare close your eyes!_

"Alfred?"

 _Martha, what did you do!? What happened!?_

"Alfred?!"

 _What did I do?! Where the hell were you!?_

"Alfred, can you hear me?!"

 _What happened to my son?! What the hell happened to him!? Doctor!_

"Elizabeta get help!"

 _Doc- wait... Who the hell is she!? Are you fucking kidding me George!?_

"Okay, Alfred, I need you to stay awake! Can you do that for me?"

 _Now is not the time Martha! Doctors!_

"Alfred!"

 _Yes, my lor- Oh my god!_

"Oh my god, Alfred! Please stay awake!"

 _Doctor get a hold of yourself! Get him to the infirmary_

"We just need to get to the infirmary!"

 _Mommy?_

"Alfred, please stay awake"

 _Alfred, please stay awake!_

"For me, just hang on a little longer just for me!"

 _Stay awake, stay awake for mommy! Please stay awake for mommy!_

"They're coming. I can hear them! Just keep your eyes open just a little bit longer"

 _Martha move! Take my son into surgery now!_

"It's gonna be fine...'

 _Mommy!_

"It's gonna be fine"

 _It's all gonna be fine._

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Darkness.

He was surrounded in darkness, constricting darkness that swallowed every one of his words into the void. It was a familiar sensation, the way it pulsed through his body like blood. It was painful, but it wasn't unpleasant. He could feel his humanity.

It was like flesh, and the darkness bit tiny pieces of it off like a hound, until all of it was gone. It was painful, but it wasn't unpleasant, the darkness was helping him. It was helping him realize who he really was, underneath all the flesh and fat of society, under all the muscle and blood of what he was expected to be. The bone that the hound called darkness left behind was his true self, a self untainted by the world, a self that should be unleashed upon the world.

A self so cruel that it should be harnessed and utilized.

But what was that light?

Why was it so bright?

The darkness was getting weaker, he could hear voices, voices that didn't belong to the void.

He knew those voices. He... he... he...

"Mom?"

More voices, they were getting louder, he could almost make out what they were saying.

"Mom? Is that you?"

The voices got even louder, now loud enough for Alfred to make out every single word.

 _Alfred, sweetie, don't move._

Don't move? But why, why can't he move? His flesh is being torn from his bones, yet he cannot move. If she knew of the pain he was enduring she would understand why not moving can no longer be an option.

"Mom... it hurts"

 _Alfred can you hear me?... I told you to stay away from that place..._

What room... oh, that room. But he didn't want to go to that place. He made him do it.

"It's not my fault"

He was going to go outside, and play with Matthew, he didn't want to enter that place. It wasn't his fault; it wasn't his fault. It was all his...

 _George, this is all of your fault..._

 _No it's not!_

"Yes it is daddy."

 _You mind yourself, Martha!_

"It was all of your fault daddy"

~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Alfred woke up in his room, a soft pressure on his bicep. He looked over groggily to see the brit's head resting on his arm. It was a dream...? Was he a part of it or was he watching? He couldn't tell, it was so dark...

What happened to him?

He felt the back of his head, only to feel bandages wrapped around it. Oh yeah... Elizabeta. What was he to do with her? Was he going to hang her?... Nah, to subtle. Was he going to whip out the old guillotine? Perhaps that was an option. Ooh, or was he going to take out the old iron maiden? It's been a while since he had last used it, he kind of missed the old gal.

Wait, what?

No, no, no, no, bad Alfred, Elizabeta is Arthur's friend, not some common criminal. But she assaulted the future king of America!

 _She wouldn't be the first one._

Alfred froze, looking around the room in shock, horror, and confusion. "Who said that?" There was someone in his room, who read his mind, and said some ominous shit that was actually incorrect. No one, who was a citizen of the U.S, has ever hit him over the head with a frying pan, that wasn't cool. Like where does she get off on hitting him for trying to help his mate. Yeah, he did beat Arthur up, but it was unintentional and it is all a part of the learning experience.

Anyway, who the fuck was in his room?

"I said, who the hell said that?"

Truth of the matter is, despite how agitated he sounded, Alfred was close to pissing his pants. He didn't want to run his mouth to a possible paranormal entity, but he did want to look like he wasn't afraid.

 _I know you're afraid, you don't need to be though... I'm not going to hurt you._

"Who the hell are you!?" the prince yelled, causing the brit beside him to flinch in his sleep.

 _You don't want to wake him, do you?_

"Who the hell- "

 _I saw your dream; do you remember yet? Do you remember us yet?_

Alfred stared at nothing as he went silent, trying to understand what was going on. Was he losing his mind? Was this punishment for something? All he knew was that there was a bodiless voice that claimed to have known him. Was he his subconscious?

 _Bingo._

"What?!" Alfred blinked wildly as he pulled away from the brit roughly, falling to the floor with a thump. "Ow..." he groaned as he reached for his nightstand, grabbing a match. With a flick of his wrist and a graze of the table, the match was alight, giving off a soft glow. On top of the nightstand was a candle, which the prince lit with the match in his hand. The room was instantly illuminated, everything could be seen. Alfred stood up and looked around, looking for any sign for intrusion.

 _You won't find anything, Alfred. I'm your subconscious, so that means I'm in your head. Who's that guy?_

The American instantly turned to the brit, growling at the voice. "You leave him alone!" Alfred would be damned if someone, or something, hurt him.

 _Relax, I wasn't gonna do anything. I was just curious is all, I've been gone for a while._

"What do you mean 'gone for a while', like asleep?" Alfred was no longer afraid, but he was still confused. "And do people normally talk to their subconscious like this? Or am I just crazy?"

 _Uh... I was locked away with your memories, and no, people don't converse with their inner selves like this, but your special. You might want to wake him up, whoever he is. I'm getting bad vibes from his dream._

"Oh, are you? Is he having a nightmare?" the prince sounded skeptical as he approached the brit's unconscious body. The Englishman was wearing a blue nightgown, which felt soft against his fingers as he shook him awake. Arthur groaned a little, and then shot up into a sitting position suddenly, causing the American to fly backwards in shock.

"WHERE AM I? WHAT'S HAPPENING!?"

Alfred stood up and approached the confused brit with his hands in the air. "Relax, Artie." He sat down beside the panting blond who look really surprised to be awake. "What's wrong? Do you wanna go back to bed?" He didn't want to impose on the other's sleep, especially after seeing how close to tears Arthur was. "I'm sorry. Why don't you- "

He was interrupted by the Englishman suddenly catapulting himself into his arms, panting and sobbing lightly as he clung to his body. "I thought I... I thought..." Alfred wanted to be worried, and he was, but something about the way the other cried was just humorous. It sounded like a dying orca, which for some reason made the prince laugh on the inside.

"Arthur, relax!" he said through a chuckle, hushing the shaking teen in his arms. "It was just a nightmare, it means nothing!" He ran his fingers through the brit's hair in an attempt to calm him, but it only made him cry harder.

"I thought I was gonna be there forever, I was so afraid!"

"Arthur- "

"And you hit your head, but it was fine because the doctors said you would be awake in a few hours so I was okay about that. But then when I thought I wouldn't wake up, I remembered that you just said you loved me and I was gonna cry and- "

"Arthur! Relax! Why wouldn't you have woken up?" Alfred was completely confused, and when things confused him, he would normally just ignore it. However, it was Arthur he was talking about, and he couldn't ignore him. Therefore, he had to get to the bottom of this. Arthur didn't seem too cooperative.

"Because I couldn't reach the window!" he cried

"What window?"

"The window on the second story that lead to the outside!" he explained.

"Outside to what?"

"I don't know!" Alfred sighed at his answer, causing the brit to get defensive. " I'm not lying or anything! If you were there you would freak out too. There were these books, all these books, and I read one about four different principalities. Well, I read the prologue, but it was quite interesting. I- "

 _Sounds like a terrifying dream_

"Okay, okay, relax Artie, relax." He did his best to hide his annoyance, but some still shown through. The brit's wet eyes narrowed as he glared at him, his huge eyebrows knit together.

"Never in the history of mankind has telling someone to CALM DOWN had actually made them CALM DOWN YOU BLOODY GIT! I had a bad dream, don't antagonize me!" he pulled away with a huff and settled himself on the bed. Oh boy. "And to think I was gonna cry over your memory!"

Alfred hummed along, ignoring the echoing laughter in his head. He settled himself on the bed too, blowing out the candle. Arthur, despite himself, cuddled up against the prince, who didn't mind seeing that it was a sign of forgiveness. Alfred could feel sleep returning, but he fought to keep his eyes open, fearing another cryptic dream. It was so dark...

"Alfred?"

"Yes."

"What if I have another nightmare?"

"I'll be here when you wake up to make you feel better."

"I... I don't want to sleep." He sat up and lit the candle, much to Alfred's dismay. The prince didn't want to dream, but reality wasn't much better. He was so tired, and he had work in the morning. Alfred remained in his spot, putting a pillow over his head to keep the light out.

 _You're just going to leave him like this?_

"I'm right here, it'll be fine"

"I know" the brit answered lightly. Alfred forgot that talking out loud was a no-no. He hummed in annoyance.

"Arthur just come to bed."

"No"

"Arthur..."

"Can you stay up with me?"

"I have work in the morning" the American answered robotically. What would they even do? Read? Alfred would pass out in seconds.

"Please..." the brit sounded desperate. Dammit.

The American sat up with a huff and swung his legs over the bed, walking towards his dresser. He pulled open his last drawer and took out a deck of cards. He wasn't going to read; he knew that for sure.

"Hey Arthur, do you know how to play strip poker?"


	8. Chapter 8

Elizabeta's life was a roller coaster, things hardly turning out the way she had planned it. Currently she was sitting, chained up like a criminal, in the fortress dungeon with the rats. The second the guards found out what she had done, they had thrown her in without a second thought, not even letting her tell her husband or her kids what had happened.

Before the arrest, after hearing Arthur's explanation for what she thought was going on, she was dumbfounded. The Englishman in front of her told her that they were training, and he was exhausted, so the prince was dabbing him with freezing water. That would kind of explain the noises, but the choice of words and phrasing didn't really match up with the situation at hand. Like c'mon, anyone would have thought they were getting frisky in the training hall.

 _"Hey, Artie... swallow it for me," "look it's already in your mouth, you might as well."_

How did that not sound like sex, especially with all the groans coming from the brit? Elizabeta isn't a peeping tom, so she was going to walk away and pretend she didn't hear that, until she heard the prince say _'I'll just put that in here'_ and a series of distressed _'Alfred stop_ 's.

Don't know about you, but that kind of sounds like rape.

So, that was her best friend in the whole entire world, she couldn't just let get violated like that. She had just come from the Kitchen and her frying pan was already in her hand, so she used it as a weapon to protect Arthur.

That fucking degenerate.

After she scolds the prince about rape being bad, and about how he should be kind to his mate, the brit has the nerve to tell her to _'stop jumping to conclusions'_ and that ' _she should watch where she swings her pan'_. She was watching where she swung her pan, that's how she hit him in the first place.

The prince looked about ready to pass out, his eyes were unfocused, he was talking to himself, there was even a few specs of blood the floor. She didn't even realize what she had done until she heard the brit cry out to the barely conscious body of the prince. She instantly felt bad when the brit started tearing up, and felt terrified as the prince's eyes rolled to the back of his head.

She was going to be in so much trouble.

After the American was officially pronounced knocked out, the brit tells her what really was going on, and how ridiculous his savior was. Elizabeta apologized, telling her friend that it was a complete accident. The guards escorted the body, and the Englishman to the infirmary to get checked out.

Arthur was opposed on going at first, because he wanted to hide Elizabeta or something, but the guards took him by force, claiming that if they didn't give him a checkup too that the prince would be very upset with them. They swooped him up, and carried him kicking and screaming to the infirmary.

Bart asked had asked the Hungarian what had happened, and despite her better judgment, she told the truth. Why did she tell the truth? She doesn't know, she figured lying would send all the guards on a wild goose chase and agitate the prince once he woke up.

So now here she was, sitting on a dirty mattress and staring into space, praying that her friend would come and get her out. It is the least he could do considering that she's in prison solely for loving too much. Hopefully, however the brit manages to convince the American prince to set her free and not punish her too hard.

However, Elizabeta knew that her chances were slim.

Word has probably already spread about, so the only way for the prince to maintain his image of mercilessness, would be to make an example out of her. That usually meant death. She has two kids and a husband, she can't die now. She has no choice but to accept her fate, she did assault the prince of the united states. Even if she did stop a rape, Alfred was still prince, and she was still a maid, there would be no hope of her getting out of her punishment.

But she had a chance now.

A slim chance, but it was still a chance.

She was just about to force herself to fall asleep when something was thrown into her prison. She scrambled around for a little bit before she found the object, a piece of paper. She opened it up and read it, eyes widening in shock. It read

 _I know how to help you_


	9. Chapter 9

"THIS GAME IS STUPID, LETS PLAY BLACKJACK!"

"But Alfred, I'm winning" the brit said with a chuckle. The American across from him was currently only wearing his underwear, shaking in embarrassment, or anger, Arthur couldn't tell. He had just learned the basics but it seems he is a natural at 'strip poker'. The fuming prince hummed in frustration, pulling his clothes on.

"Hey!" the brit shouted, grabbing the collar of the shirt to prevent the other from putting it on. "I took that off of you fair and square! It's not my fault you're a sore loser!" he pulled it off and, along with the rest of the clothes, placed it behind him where it was safe.

"Artie~~! I dun wanna play this game anymore!"

"Proper English please, I beg of you" the brit huffed, pinching the other's cheek playfully. Arthur was currently fully dressed in his night gown, not having lost anything except a friendship bracelet Elizabeta had given him. Speaking of Elizabeta, he hadn't seen her since the accident. She had explained to him that she had thought he was being raped, and that she had to save him, one way or another.

Try as he might, he couldn't be upset.

She was only looking out for him so he only hoped that the American could find it in his heart to pardon her. Maybe he should bring it up now, while the mood was right.

"Alfred?"

"No"

What!? But he had no idea what he was going to say. "Why not, do you even know what I was gonna ask?" the American hummed and glared at him as slowly approached him, no longer looking embarrassed but rather offended. He had no reason to be upset, so the attitude was really unnecessary.

"It's about Elizabeta, is it not?" he said with certainty. It wasn't a question; it was more like an accusation in question format. He reached around the brit and took his clothes, huffing as he put them away. Arthur blushed as he nodded, making eye contact with the prince.

"She thought I was getting raped, so she- "

"So she ASSAULTED me!" the prince raised his voice momentarily, visibly calming himself as he continued. "I don't care what she thought was going on, but NO ONE will ever disrespect me like that. She will NOT be pardoned, no matter what you say." He walked over to the bed and settled down on it, blowing out the candle on the nightstand.

"Alfred!" Arthur could not believe what he was hearing; was Alfred really going to punish his best friend? "She was trying to protect me! She thought she was doing the right thing; it's one big misunderstanding, I swear!" He approached the bed and sat by the American's legs. He didn't even know where the Hungarian was right now, perhaps there is this protocol, this procedure that they took when events like this happen.

"She hit me, the future king of America, with a dirty frying pan, and proceeded to scold me about treating a mate the right way. Which I am perfectly fine at- "

"Good mates don't kill off their mate's best friends" the prince fell silent at that and just huffed again, turning away angrily. Arthur, pissing him off won't help Liz, he needed another approach.

"Well, what if you were in Liz's shoes? If you heard me shouting stop and heard a struggle, wouldn't you have come to save me? What if you're at your coronation, and I'm being sexually harassed by one of your knights, wouldn't you want someone to help me without second thought? Elizabeta would, she would save me, and then feed me and make me feel better and make me feel safe. How could she if you killed her!" maybe the hypothetical scenarios will get to him, appeal to his more "Alfie, she has a husband and a pair of kids, you can't take her away from them." The brit continued, now caressing the American's knees. "She has so much love and kindness to offer the world- "

The Englishman was interrupted by sudden hysterical laughter erupting from the American. Someone's life was on the line; how could he be laughing? Life isn't a joke, and Elizabeta's life certainly wasn't a joke.

"Oh, Artie~~~" Alfred said through pants as he sat up, setting the candle alight once more. Arthur could see the apathy in his eyes, and the cold blue orbs stared at him with pure amusement. "'She has so much love to offer' oh god Arthur you crack me up! She is living in a fortress as a maid in this shithole of a country, she has absolutely nothing to offer the world!"

"Alfred!"

"'What would you have done?' Well, honestly, when I busted into the room to kick some ass, I would briefly assess. If a man was dabbing you with, let's say, a rag then I would put the fucking weapon down. If it was indeed rape, I would proceed accordingly." His eyes were tired, but they held this odd glow in them that the brit had never seen before. It was warning him to drop it, but he couldn't possibly give up on his friend. "She is a menace- "

"Alfred, she- "

"NO LET ME FINISH!" he was yelling now, and he looked pissed. Why was he so worked up?! The brit couldn't help but flinch away in mild fear, eyes widening in shock. He didn't think the American would hurt him, even if he was this mad, but just to be safe he moved out of arms reach. "Just because she's your best friend, it doesn't mean she could get away with what she had done. You may not be as familiar with the world, but every action has a consequence- "

"But why should there be a consequence for this one!? She thought she was doing the right thing!" tears were now gathering in his eyes as he yelled back. The conversation had quickly begun to be a screaming match.

"THERE HASN'T BEEN A SINGLE RAPE IN THIS CASTLE! WHY THE HELL SHOULD SHE BE WORRIED ABOUT SOMEONE ATTACKING YOU LIKE THAT!? I HAD MADE IT VERY CLEAR TO EVERYONE THAT YOU WERENT TO BE TOUCHED! She knew that... she knew that..." The prince sighed in frustration. "Why are you crying?"

"Because" Arthur was sobbing, the tears having fell in the middle of the other's rant. "You're so cruel. How are you just going to kill her like that? She has a family and friends- "

"Yeah, and I have a nation, and knights who need to respect me and the last thing I need to show is weakness!" He swung his legs over the bed and sat awkwardly next to the Englishman. When he tried to touch him, Arthur would begin to pull away, marching into the bathroom and slamming the door. "Arthur!"

Arthur ignored the calls and washed his face, sick to his stomach. Is it all about power to him? Is compassion too much to ask? The calls were getting way more aggressive and louder, but he had faith in Alfred's sanity to be almost certain that he was safe from physical harm. Emotional harm? Too late.

The blond was shaking and sniffling, breathing heavily to hold back his sobs.

"ARTHUR!"

He began to whimper. His instinct were telling him to return to Alfred; to return to his alpha. He couldn't stay in the bathroom all night, but he had never seen Alfred like this. He didn't want to admit it but he was scared. He took a deep breath before exiting the bathroom to find a pacing American with his hands in his hair. The prince glared at Arthur so heatedly that the brit found himself looking down, not wanting to offend the man further.

"Alfred I am... sorry" he felt so anxious, but when he saw the other approach, he had to fight the urge move back. He was enveloped in a hug, a warm hug by his powerful alpha that instantly made him feel better. His distinctive smell brought him to his happy place, and it always did without fail.

"Don't apologize, I'm being too harsh on you."

Arthur didn't like displeasing Alfred, not only for the sole fact that he is terrifying, but also because he had a twisting feeling in his gut whenever he did. It was just his omega instinct.

"I... I don't need to kill her..." he whispered lightly, causing the Englishman to look up at him, hope in his eyes. "I don't think I was planning on killing her... but I'm torn at the moment..." he trailed off, his voice husky, closing his eyes. Arthur stared at him patiently, sniffling as he waited. If liz had to be punished, maybe it could be mild.

"Maybe... make her clean the dungeons forever?" he suggested. It wasn't that bad, but according to the other maids, the dungeons were awful to clean. Alfred opened his eyes at the idea, and glanced down at the brit slowly.

"I'm thinking more along the lines of exile or deportation."

"What!?" Arthur tried to tear away from the other, but Alfred's grp was too tight. "You can't send her away! Alfred, her life is here!" He was crying again, but it was muffled as the American pulled him into his chest. He gripped his shirt for dear life, begging and pleading. "Please Alfred, don't send her away! Where would she go!? Don't do this, I apologize on her behalf!"

"Arthur don't- "

The brit wasn't going to let his friend go because of a silly mistake. "Alfred, you can't just send her away, not alone. Her kids are three years old and Roderich needs to care for them! If she goes... then I'm going too." Arthur could see the rage in the prince's eyes, furious at the man in front of him.

"NO YOU AREN'T!" he shouted back, pulling away from the brit. The Englishman walked over to his dresser and pulled out the large sack he came with. It had been a while since he needed it, but it was still in good condition. He threw pants and shirts in the sack, much to Alfred's protest. He only stopped when he felt the other grab his wrist, tight enough to almost break it.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, Alfred, get off! You're hurting me, let go!" his voice was hoarse, he was losing his voice. Alfred grabbed the sack away and tossed it, grabbing the brit's other hand with his free one.

"Please don't go!" he pleaded. He no longer looked as angry, and Arthur could see a hint of fear. "I love you so much, you can't leave me!"

"I don't want to go, but Liz can't go by herself! England is a dangerous place now..." Looking into the American's eyes, the omega felt an intense wave of doubt move through his body. He loved Liz, but he loved Alfred more, he didn't know if he could do it.

But Alfred didn't know that.

"Where would the two of you go?! Like you said, England is a dangerous place... Arthur you can't be serious. You're my mate, do you really want to leave me?" the prince's eyes were wet and red, his face distressed and pained. Arthur had nowhere to go, but he knew who to look for.

Dylan, he would take them in, he was always the kindest of his brothers.

Arthur buried his face into the prince's chest and breathed, trying to calm down. This escalated to the point where the brit was just about ready to give up, that twisting feeling in his gut returning. His alpha was in pain, and it was his fault. Smelling the odor he loves so much, he knew in his heart that he could never leave Alfred, and that was the painful part.

"Arthur, please don't go..." the prince whispered into his hair.

Arthur was weak, and he hated himself as he nodded. "Okay, okay I'll stay."

They held each other tightly as if the world were ending. None moved from their spot, just clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. Finally, Alfred lifted the brit up in his arms and returned to the bed. As they settled in their spots, Arthur positioned his head over the American's heart and sighed at his failure. They were cuddling, but it wasn't the same as usual, it was more desperate now. Alfred needed to be assured that the brit wasn't leaving him, Arthur could tell by how fast his heart was beating.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. I didn't mean to scare you. I-I don't k-know what I was thinking."

"It's okay, it's not your fault you're so kind. I-I just... please, don't do that to me again. I think I'll have a heart attack." He said with a chuckle, kissing the Englishman passionately. "Please don't leave me" he kissed the other again, and Arthur could feel his heart swell. The Englishman smiled and chuckled too, kissing back softly.

"I love you too... I'm not going, I'm not leaving." He yawned snuggling up to the prince even closer. "I think I'm gonna sleep, I don't care if I have another nightmare." His eyes were heavy, and the melodic beat of his mate's heart was nice and slow, relaxing enough to put him asleep.

Sleep came faster than he expected, and the last thing the brit saw was the prince reaching over him to blow out the candle for the 4th time that night.

* * *

Arthur paced the bedroom as Alfred got ready in the bathroom, dressing up for today's trial. The brit looked at himself in the full length mirror, playing with his outfit. It was a rich royal blue tunic to match those of the prince. It was fitted around his waist and trimmed at the bottom so he wouldn't trip. They removed the padding around the breast area too, leaving Arthur to wonder who owned the dress before him.

"Artie, how do I look?"

The American turned in a circle to give Arthur a full view, but even at any angle, he looked perfect. The prince walked to his dresser and opened the first one, taking a shiny golden object out. It had tiny diamonds and sapphires and rubies all over it, and the light bounced off of each precious stone beautifully as the prince placed it on his head. The crown was beautiful on its own, but on Alfred it looked a thousand times better. Arthur put two finger in his mouth and whistled, causing the other to roll his eyes. Arthur returned to gazing at the mirror, and didn't react when the American wrapped his arms around his waist. He ran his finger through his own hair and sighed, not looking forward for the day.

Elizabeta was to be sentenced today, but hopefully Alfred would heed to the brit's begging. "Alfred, I'm not going to break out into tears at this hearing, am I?" the brit chuckled softly, gazing at the other's reflection. Alfred's goofy grin dropped, and it was replaced with a sheepish smile.

"It depends on how emotional you are; I would never do it on purpose."

And with that, there was a knock on the door, signaling that it was time for the hearing to begin. Arthur took one more deep breath and looped his arm around the other's, linking their elbows. They walked, regally through the halls, which were filled by handfuls of maids, watching in awe and jealousy.

Yes, Arthur knew they were jealous; it was impossible for them to be that cold to him once word got out about Arthur's relationship by coincidence. However, Alfred, didn't say anything so he probably didn't notice. There's no reason to cause strife.

In no time they reached the large wooden doors of the great hall where the trial will take place. Arthur could already hear the voices from the inside, causing his nerves to flare up. He straightened his back and held his head high as two guards pulled the doors open. The brit couldn't help but flinch when the trumpets began to blare, and the Harold began to yell in a deep voice, telling everyone to stand in the presence of the ruler. There was shuffling as people stood, and the trumpets began to play some music instead of just a jumble of notes.

"Artie, you ready?" the prince took a step forward, not even waiting for the brit to answer. The answer would have been along the lines of 'No, you bloody tosser! Do I look ready!'. However, Arthur maintained his façade of confidence as they walked pass the people, actually, down an aisle. The great hall's tables were repositioned to the edges of the hall, and there were rows of seats where the knights would watch the trial.

They were all dressed properly for a change, all wearing rather regal clothing. As the Englishman looked around, his eyes met the desperate violet eyes of Roderich. They were full of fear, and they were looking at the brit in such a way that the message was clear. Arthur nodded slightly, showing his support and cooperation. As they approached the throne, Arthur's eyes widened in shock.

There were two thrones now, not one.

They were beautiful and grand, and also very large. As they walked up the small steps leading to the chairs, the trumpets stop blowing, signaling that they should sit down soon. Arthur took the smaller of the two thrones, on the left, and sat carefully to make sure the dress wasn't wrinkled. Alfred took the seat beside him and hummed loudly enough that the people all took their seats.

The Harold with the deep voice walked up to the steps leading to the throne and bowed down humbly, greeting the two. "Good day, your highness... -es. Today we have one trial, concerning the terrible incident that happened yesterday. Are you alright, by the way?" He had a thick mustache that connected to his beard, which connected to his sideburns, which connected to a thick mane of black hair wavy hair. He was a stocky man, and his eyes were a soft hazel, the brit could tell. He had this father-like vibe about him, the sincerity of his voice when he asked the prince about his health contributed to that.

"I'm fine, John. I just want to get this over with." The prince said with a wave of his hand. Guess he doesn't like the affection. John cleared his throat and turned around to face the rest of the people, and spoke loudly enough that he could be heard from the other side of the room, perhaps even through the door.

"BRING IN THE PRISONER!"

The large wooden double doors burst open to reveal two fully armored knights manhandling a woman with light brown hair, and olive green eyes. She was struggling quite a bit, but luckily not enough to cause the two knights to call for back up. They eventually got her down the aisle before the prince lost patience, tossing her onto the floor in a bowing position.

When the knights returned to their place by the door, the Hungarian remained on the floor, visibly shaking. She lost all her bravery, it seemed, and the trial hadn't even begun yet. The harold scolded her lightly, telling her it was enough and that she stood stand up and explain herself. She remained on the floor however, ignoring every word.

"Rise" the prince said with a stern voice. Arthur could hear his annoyance, but only a person who knew the prince personally would be able to tell. To the brit's surprise, he saw the herald shift nervously away from the Hungarian, eyeing the prince warily. Did he notice too?

The fearful woman in question stood up, quaking and keeping her eyes low. The Englishman felt the strings of his heart pull, the image of his care free friend being replaced by the one before him; scuffed up, dirty, and just overall terrified. Arthur glanced at the prince, looking for any sign of intent. If a guy was planning to take revenge, it would be all over his face, right? However, the face of the prince beside him was neutral, absolutely blank and unreadable. Arthur sighed aloud.

"Elizabeta, are you alright?" Arthur said without thinking, holding his breath once he realized. The Hungarian just looked so sad... However, she was now looking at the brit with terrified pleading eyes. The woman began to breath heavily, and nodded quickly, squeezing her eyes shut. Arthur nodded, speaking softly to the Hungarian. "Okay, okay. Why don't you tell prince Alfred what you told me? He'll understand it much better if it came from you." The desperate woman nodded again, and opened her eyes again, looking down at the floor.

"Your highness..." she started, but by the thickness of her voice, she sounded close to tears. The American hummed in acknowledgement, and the brit encouraged her to continue. "That day, that day when you told me to look after Arthur, I swore to you that I would. And by swearing... I took on the responsibility of feeding him and making him feel more at home..."

"Yes, you did." The prince said thoughtfully, nodding.

 _"But that also meant that I would have to monitor him, and talk to him... how can I do that, without creating this connection? This affection that a mother would have with her child, and as a mother of two, I am familiar with that feeling. Over the past few weeks, I have come to love your mate as one of your own children, so when I thought he was in danger, I didn't care nor think of the consequences of my actions."_

 _The Englishman felt his eyes water at the kind words, and he couldn't fight the smile on his lips._

 _"I thought you were hurting him, and you told me to look after him at one point. I thought I was doing just that! I swear! I've seen the two of you together, I've never seen a couple so stubbornly in love before. It's clear how much you mean to each other, so I thought, maybe, I was helping you too, but stopping you from crossing a line that you can't uncross. I honestly just wanted to help and protect Arthur, my little tart."_

At least that's what Arthur wished she had said. But it went a little more like this.

"But, I didn't know it was you in the room! All I heard was "Stop!" and "Just swallow"!" Arthur's eyes widened in confusion. Was she actually lying? "I only knew it was Arthur in the room because of his awful accent! You, no offense, sound like any other knight. What you and your mate do isn't any of my business, but I thought if Pendragon was violated by a random knight, you would blame me!" She looked heartbroken as she spoke, but Arthur couldn't tell if she was crying for show, or if she felt guilty.

"You wouldn't have saved him if it were me attempting to rape him?" Alfred sounded even, but Arthur didn't dare look at him. He kept his eyes on Elizabeta, his round shocked eyes slowly narrowing into a glare. What if she wasn't lying? What if it was all a lie?

"Like I said" she said evenly, making eye contact with the brit. She didn't blink and she didn't look away as she continued. "What you do with your mate, is none of my business. You're his alpha, it's his job as an omega to please you anyway! If he refused to do hid duty, I wouldn't blame you for taking what was yours" she was no longer shaking, and she looked far more comfortable. Was it perhaps because she thought she was telling the prince what she wanted to do?

"You can ask any of the maids!" she quickly added. "I never really had any real attachment with Pendragon, I would cook and clean for him, and occasionally act like his friend, but that's all it was. Just an act! You look like any other man from behind so when I struck you I had no idea that it was you. I was really trying to stay out of trouble by trying to save Arthur, but it was clear that I was mistaken."

"Is that so?" Alfred asked slowly. Elizabeta nodded earnestly.

"I apologize with all of my heart for wounding you, but I do not apologize for taking the chore you assigned to me very seriously."

The whole room was silent, and Arthur was perhaps, moments away from tears. She didn't sound like she was lying, in fact, she sounded just as convincing as she had when they spoke over the prince's body. However, if he cried now, her story would somehow be validated to the people of the court. He took a deep breath and straightened himself out, despite a piece of his heart shattering.

She was his first real friend; how could she do this?

"Elizabeta, you know, that really conflicts with what Arthur thought you said" Alfred noted, eyeing her with a slight smile. Elizabeta shook her head, glaring at the brit.

"Arthur loves you, and when someone sees someone they love in such a state that you were in, they don't pay good attention to their surroundings. He must have misinterpreted what I was saying, which was about how I thought a knight was attacking him. He must've thought I said 'your knight' which I often, embarrassingly enough, refer to you as when I'm forced into ridiculous conversations with him."

The prince began to hum, eyeing the Hungarian and the Englishman back and forth. Finally, he spoke.

"Well, that makes so much more sense. But you said I can ask anyone, so... you!" he pointed at a random maid. "What kinds of stuff does Elizabeta say about Arthur Pendragon?" the maid, the girl who served them breakfast the day before, walked up to the front of the alter, eyeing the Hungarian incredulously. She hesitated, glancing at the brit, before speaking.

"Uh, well..." her voice was nasally and strands of brown hair was falling on her face. "She once said that Mr. Kirkland loved the clothes she got him, and when I asked her what kinds, she said the ones that the common whore omega would wear. She then said it suited him... She also once told me and a few others that when you found him out in the cold forest, she cried for an hour because she thought she was finally going to get her freedom away from him and have time to spend with her kids. She said that she really wanted him to go missing, like his brother."

But she quickly added "That's what she said though, I have never, not even once, agreed with her. Or laugh more importantly." She looked down and said in a much lower voice. "Those jokes were rather harsh and tasteless."

Arthur forced himself into a smile, blinking faster to try and hide his tears. He eventually just lifted his gloved hands and, as discreetly as possible, dabbed the tears from his lashes. That proved useless though, considering that all eyes were on him. Did they expect him to do something?

"Thank you Madeline" the brit said breathlessly, now staring at his hands. How could he be so foolish? He had only met her a month ago, why was he so invested? The brunette scurried off into the crowd, leaving the Hungarian up there alone.

"Okay, then I guess I've made my decision. Elizabeta... I appreciate your honesty, and your dedication to your tasks. I'm not one to hold a grudge, so I'll give you 2 years of dungeon duty." A sigh was released from the crowd, tension and angst leaving their bodies. Roderich ran out from the crowd and ran up to his wife, hugging her and swinging her around. Their two children soon followed, bouncing and cheering, spreading joy around the hall.

"THAT IS...!" the prince yelled to get everyone's attention. When they were all quiet, he continued. "That is if Arthur is okay with that." He placed a hand on the brit's forearm and shook lightly, making the Englishman look up at him. Arthur could tell by the flash of worry on the other's face that his eyes were red and that his cheeks were pink.

"What?"

"I asked, do you think she deserves a different punishment, like deportation or something?"

"Um... I don't care really." She said softly as he glanced at Elizabeta. She wouldn't make eye contact with him, instead she was gripping her children with her dear life. Roderich looked up at the Brit with worried eyes, eyes that seemed to apologize for everything the Hungarian had said. Arthur weighted the options in his head.

He had cried last night, for the woman, even briefly contemplating leaving with her if she were to be deported. He described her as loving, and kind, but now he wasn't so sure. She had said awful things about him, and even prodded at his omega status and the situation of his brother. She knew how he would feel, how much it would hurt him. She described their friendship as an act, a chore, something she was tasked to do. And it made do much sense now; a real friendship couldn't blossom so quick.

All she really cared about was the job, and her family. The way she held on to those kids and her husband silently as if she were praying. She played him like a fool, and now would be his chance to return the favor. But... he doesn't have it in him. He took a heavy breath and sighed loudly, looking down at the Hungarian with angry eyes, his blood suddenly boiling. Just because their friendship wasn't real to her, doesn't mean it wasn't real to him.

"I... I think that dungeon duty is just fine"


	10. Chapter 10

**3 Weeks later...**

Arthur still had a hangover from New Years and it was four days ago.

He was currently reading in Alfred's study as the American practiced his lines for the coronation. He had his own little canopy in this solar, and the large bookcases made sure he was never bored. For the past three weeks he has been reading all about the world, trying to make up for lost time. He had caught up with his studies, and has picked up an interest in many countries including England, America, Spain, France. He found their histories very entertaining and at the same time mesmerizing. He was currently reading "The Poisonwood Bible", which was about an American missionary family in the Congo. It was a work of fiction, but it was very entertaining. It was too bad that his head was about to explode.

"Artie, you okay? You look constipated."

"I'm fine, you twat" the Englishman replied with a chuckle. Alfred chuckled back, but obnoxiously, an obvious attempt to recreate his laugh. "I dont sound like that" The brit tried to keep a straight face, but a grin began to spread across his cheeks. He actually did sound like that, he knew, but he would never admit it.

"Whatcha reading?" The prince asked as he approached. He was previously behind his desk, reciting some words, but he was now sitting on the cushion the Brit claimed for himself. Arthur moved over to allow the prince more room, tilting the book so the American could follow along.

"It's about an American family living in the Congo." the Englishman explained. Alfred nodded.

"I've read this book already; it's a good read, I guess..." he trailed off. Arthur quirked his brow and looked the prince up and down.

"Do you have any better suggestions?"

"Yes! Yes! I'll be write back." He jumped to his feet and ran to his desk, pulling open a drawer and rustling through it. Arthur rolled his eyes at the other's excitement and continued to read. The protagonist was running for their life from the native Congolese people, almost being impaled by multiple spears. Just then, the book was torn from his hands.

"Wha..." The Englishman looked up to see a grinning American holding two books, one was the one Arthur was reading, and the other was one Arthur didnt recognize. Alfred handed him the unknown title gingerly, warning the pale male to be careful with the binding. "Yeah, yeah, what is it?" the brit asked as he took it cautiously. He read the cover aloud. "Independence Day? Is this about the fourth of July because I have already read a ton about that."

"No, Arthur." the American took a seat beside the brit. "It's about a brave man fighting intergalactic invaders, trying to save himself and his family." He sounded so inspired as he spoke, as if that was the dream job. "He's such a hero..." he continued on to say. Arthur was still confused on the concept.

"Aliens?" the brit looked up at the American for further explanation. Alfred stared back blankly until his eyes widened in realization.

"Oh! Uh, aliens are intelligent beings from other planets, and in this story, they come to destroy the human race." Arthur visibly gasped.

"Do aliens exist?"

"Yeah." The brit gasped again, eyes widening in shock and wonder. How come he has never heard of aliens? His heart raced at the realization of how behind he was. He has just finished the basic overview of European history, and North American. He was moving on to Asia and Africa next, and then Ancient times. Did he even have time to study Aliens? What kinds are out there? How many? What do they look like?

"Well, I think they exist, but it's debatable" the American interrupted his thoughts. What?

"It's debatable? Why?"

"No solid evidence" the American said with a sad sigh. Arthur nodded in understanding. That would explain why the idea was so foreign. "But" the prince continued, "aliens still make for interesting stories." With that he got up and walked back toward his desk, ending their little chat. Arthur sighed. He looked down and saw both books on the ground, the prince leaving him a choice. He picked up "Independence Day" by Richard Ford and opened to the blurb.

It seemed interesting enough, and it wouldnt hurt to read it.

~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~

Arthur was about 3 chapters into the book before he closed it, thoroughly bored. Looks like science fiction wasnt for him. Arthur made sure to take his time, making sure to look engrossed in the book just in case the American looked over. However, Arthur couldnt do it anymore, aliens were dumb.

"Artie, can I ask you something?"

Arthur jumped in his seat, startled to say the least. Alfred noticed and gave him a confused look, before continuing. "My coronation is soon... and I was wondering if... maybe... if you would like to be my date?" He sounded nervous and his cheeks were a light pink. However, Arthur has been waiting for the prince to ask him for a while.

"Yes, of course! That is a very special day, love!" Arthur sounded cheery, and that alone was enough to bring a smile back on the American's lips. He must have thought he needed to convince the Englishman, and Arthur would admit, a month ago, he would probably have said no. America, the land of the "free", he would imagine, would be very Anti British considering the English navy has done some severe damage on the coast of the country. Also the fact that he was very unfamiliar with the place, and if he got lost, he would never be found.

The was also the fact that Alfred's mother lives there.

He wasnt ready to meet the queen. He had never even seen a queen. The British royalty left the throne a long time ago, a little after the war had started. It became a socialist democracy for the most part, and it was ruled by Parliament. That was disbanded however, when the Americans came for the second time. They couldn't agree on anything, especially regarding the American's demands. That's when Uther Kirkland came to power as a rebel leader against the Americans. Then after he was betrayed and killed by American forces in a gruesome battle lead by a merciless commander, the resistance ended.

But now, Arthur wasn't so sure, seeing that Dylan was alive. If he was alive, then perhaps the other's were alive. Maybe even his father. Arthur shook his head, that was wishful thinking. Only magic would make that possible. Speaking of magic, after that one dream, he had never had it again. Not even sign, or anything else. It was probably just a bad reaction from drinking wine right before bed.

However, we digress.

The brit no longer minds going because he secretly has been practicing his American Accent. He had gotten Madeline to help him pronounce words, and help him with American slang. Madeline has been more than willing to help him, and she has proven herself to be kind and actually hilarious. She never fails to pump Arthur up when he's feeling sluggish. Nevertheless, he has kept the maid arms width away from him, he didn't want a repeat of Elizabeta. So their friendship stopped at tutelage. She wasn't to give him food, or shop for her. Too much interaction would make them too familiar with each other.

As for Elizabeta, he hasn't spoken with her since the trial. He didn't want to anyway. She not only made him look and feel like a fool, she had said such horrible things about him to her actual friends. She called him annoying, and described their friendship as a chore, nothing more to her than an act. When he walks down the hall, chatting with a guard or Madeline, he would sometimes see her with talking and laughing with other maids, simultaneously patting her daughter on the head.

On occasions like that, Arthur regrets not taking his chance to get back at her. But the guard would pat his back, and Madeline would give him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder, and he would release all that negativity, and ignore her existence.

The guards have softened up to the brit over time; including him in games, and assisting him with random activities. He wouldn't call any of them his friend, but they were his acquaintances. His favorite of the knights though, was Davie. He was a tad bit older than Arthur, but he looked just as young. He had brownish hair and deep indigo eyes. He, unlike the other knights, didn't come from a very prominent family. He was a bit lean, but clearly muscular, abs for days. He was sweet, romantic, and hilarious, but their relationship was purely platonic. The alpha had his eyes set on some unknown man he had met in the forest while looking for Peter. And besides, Davie and Alfred were best friends.

We digress again.

Arthur got up and stretched like a cat, sauntering over to the prince with a bright smile. Arthur kissed him passionately, rubbing his hands on the other's chest. He loved every minute he has spent with the prince so far, even when he felt he wanted to kill the other. The fact that Alfred could make him feel all those emotions he had no use for while he was underground made him realize that in these past few weeks, he has never been happier. If that made him a bad person, he didn't care.

 _Knock, knock, knock._

"We're coming in!"

Davie and Madeline walked in together with a picnic basket and a blanket in their hands. Arthur pulled away from the prince quickly and straightened out his clothes, blood rushing to his cheeks. He glared at the pair, who were currently laughing and setting up a picnic in the middle of the solar. "What you two doing?" Arthur sounded pissed, but the two knew better. Madeline set plates on the blanket while Davie began taking cushions from the couch to use as seats. The brit directed his glare over to the prince, who was whistling loudly. He saw the glare, and flashed the smile.

"I thought you'd say yes."

Arthur crossed his arms and stared at the prince. He was trying to bite back his smile, but the American saw through it quickly, placing sweet kisses all over him. The brit couldn't stop the giggle from escaping his lips, and he placed grateful kisses all over the American as well.

"The foods getting cold, and Maddie looks like she's gonna- "

"Shut up! I wasnt gonna eat anything!"

The couple pulled apart and made their way to the blanket. There was four of everything...

"No" Arthur said, taking a cloth and whacking Davie on the arm. "You two arent invited! You'll ruin the mood." Arthur was dead set on getting rid of them. This was supposed to be an intimate moment between him and Alfred, he didnt need two goofballs messing that up. Davie picked up a spoon and began to swat at Arthur also, trying his best to dodge the rag in the brit's hand.

Before long they were battling away from the blanket, near one of the bookcases, still going at it. Arthur disarmed the guard, temporarily getting the upper hand. That didn't last long though, the prince who was still in the room getting very upset.

"HEY! YOU TWO! HERE! RIGHT NOW!"

Davie was there in an blink of an eye, while Arthur took a little longer to get there, sulking at his stolen victory. "You two are so immature! Sit down and eat some food." The two grumbled and sat down, far away from each other. Davie sat by Alfred as Arthur sat with Maddie, who was eating her food quietly, silently judging it.

All throughout the picnic they chatted, laughing and joking around. Davie talked non stop about flowers, and surprisingly enough, Alfred was listening, humming along and adding input. Arthur and Madeline were gossiping about other maids and guards, ranking them from hottest to the most homely. Alfred over heard, and interjected.

"Mark is way more attractive than Fitz. Fitz looks like a mole rat." He deadpanned

"No", Davie glared at the prince, shaking his head. "Fitz is more attractive than Mark, Mark looks like a snap dragon."

The two men then began to argue, which led to personal jabs, and an eventual wrestling match. Arthur sighed, annoyed.

This was the 13th time this week.

* * *

 **One day later...**

Arthur was sitting silently in the solar reading, fully engrossed. Alfred had left temporarily to speak to a messenger, not telling the brit exactly what time he would return, just the fact that he was. Arthur didn't mind, though, the silence was music to his ears. And though he enjoys the American's constant humming, it made it hard to concentrate sometimes. He was more than half way through the book, and it wouldn't be more than a day until he finished it. He would usually, after reading a book, go hunting for another one for at least an hour, trying out new genres and reading through the prologues. He was thinking about reading a play next, probably one by Shakespeare, seeing he was the best. He wanted to learn at the same time, though, perhaps the playwright has some historical stories.

 _Knock, knock, knock_

"Come in!" the brit called, not bothering to open the door himself. Maids, if they weren't Madeline, came and went fast enough for the brit not to notice them too much. In fact, when the door opened, and the maid shuffled about, cleaning, the Englishman didn't even look up. He silently continued to read in his little canopy of books, occasionally picking up a quill and a piece of parchment and jotting down words he didn't understand. When he finished a chapter, he would take the list of words he collected and use a dictionary to define them. He would then try to apply them to regular everyday scenarios in his head and try to create a sentence using the word. So far, he has run through 1 and a half journals just for sentences and definitions of the words he didn't know. He tried to use them as often as possible, and in multiple occasions, John, the Harold, would have formal conversations to help prepare him for the potential meeting of a noble or another royal.

The brit was just in the middle of defining a word when he heard someone clear their throat, causing him to look up. Lo and behold, it was his least favorite maid standing with her head bowed and hands clasped together. She didn't meet his eyes, and Arthur found that rather ironic, considering that she was bold enough to glare at him during the trial. The Englishman eyed her with suspicion, setting his book down slowly.

"What do you want?" Arthur asked coldly, not wanting to beat around the bush. Ripping off the bandages as fast as possible prevents agony, very similar to this situation. Even if he tried to be casual and kind, the conversation would turn south inevitably, so why waste his precious time on something negative, if he could read a much more fascinating book? Elizabeta raised her head and looked at the brit before her, before quickly looking down. "What do you want, Elizabeta?" Arthur didn't even attempt to hide the annoyance in his voice, he wants her to know he still didn't like her.

"I just wanted to apologize to you, personally" she spoke quietly, shifting from leg to leg. "What I said was beyond rude, and disrespectful. You didn't deserve to hear that from me, or from anyone, but I should explain myself." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"All is forgiven" he said quickly. "You may go now." He picked up his book opening it up to his page and pretended to read. The Hungarian maid, however didn't go though, instead she cleared her throat once more and continued.

"I didn't mean what I said at the trial, Arthur- "

"Why did you say it then?"

"I needed to tell the prince what he wanted to hear. That it was a mistake! If he knew I deliberately hit him, he'd have my neck. If he thought, that I thought he was someone else, and was just protecting what was his, he'd show some compassion!"

Arthur looked at her with blank eyes and quirked a brow. "That's the dumbest shit i have ever heard. And you could've still done that without the blatant disrespect and disregard of my feelings. I don't know how it's like where you're from, but just because I'm an omega, it doesn't make me a whore or a play thing. That was all unnecessarily offensive, but I'm glad to know that you'd let Alfred rape me if he wanted because you think I'm his property. And who told you that was a good idea?!"

"Arthur, you're not listening. I didn't mean what I said at the trial, any of it! I knew it was Alfred, I even scolded him! It was all a show, and he fell for it; I just didn't think you would too" Elizabeta stomped her foot. "I don't know who told me that, I couldn't see his face. It's dark down there in the dungeons..."

"You listened to a stranger? Rubbish."

"I was desperate, I needed a way to fool the prince, and it worked" She threw her hands in the air.

The brit pinched the bridge of his nose. Did she really think the Prince was that stupid? "Elizabeta... Alfred knew you lied. If you weren't so busy giving me dirty looks, you would have noticed his amused demeanor. He came into the meeting with his mind set up already because I begged him the night before. If it weren't for me, I'm positive, based on what you said during the trial, you would've been decapitated on the spot." The Hungarian shot him an annoyed look, as if he was the one wasting her time.

"Arthur, I care for you like a little brother. I would never say such- "

"What about those things you told Madeline behind my back? Those things you said to the other maids about me?" Arthur's voice remained leveled and smooth, a trick he picked up from talking to John. Nobles were snobbish and rude more times than not, so to prevent any fallout between nations, aristocrats would often hide behind a cool demeanor and smooth voice to disguise their true reactions. A poker face, Alfred called it. Alfred used this Poker face all the time, be it with his friends, his maids, his Harold. The only time he has seen the prince's mask go down was when he was with Matthew, Davie or Arthur himself. Elizabeta, on the other hand, had a terrible poker face.

"That was a long time ago, my feelings were different then." She said honestly. Arthur scoffed.

"Well the trial was a long time ago, and my feelings are different now" He buried his nose in his book once more. "Now get out, and if possible, stay away."

There was a thick silence. He could see from the corner of his eyes the hurt expression on her face. She looked about ready to cry, but Arthur couldn't care less. She had thrown this friendship away, and now that she wanted it back she thought she could get it. She was wrong, horribly wrong, and Arthur would die a happy man if he never saw her face ever again. She left him wondering for days why she did what she did, and how could she ever bring herself to say such awful things. He felt like crap, and she never once came to comfort and explain herself to him. The only helping hands he received were from Alfred, and Davie, and Margaret alongside John. They made the pain in his heart weaken to the point where it was only a dull ache. He made Elizabeta his anchor, to help him cope because she was so mother-like, and perhaps he is partly to blame for missing that figure so much.

"But... Arthur- "

"Leave, now Elizabeta"

But from here on out, he would be more careful of who he lets his guard down around. There were snakes everywhere.

~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~

"Hey, wait up eyebrows!"

Arthur rolled his eyes at the nickname the knight insisted on calling him. "Yes, Davie?" The knight was sporting just the bottom half of his armor, the rest nowhere to be seen. Davie caught up quickly, cradling his helmet in his arms. He was panting slightly, his breath could be seen as steam in the frosty air. He wore very little, and he looked a little cold. He also looked slightly annoyed.

"Where are you going?"

"I was just taking a little walk." Arthur explained. "Trying to clear my head." Davie looked at him sympathetically.

"Are you getting cold feet?"

"Well, I am walking on snow, so I guess you could say that." The Englishman looked thoroughly confused. Why did it matter if he had cold feet? His thoughts were interrupted by Davie sucking his teeth.

"No, cold feet means having doubts. So are you having doubts about going to the coronation?" The knight sounded exasperated. Arthur contemplated telling Davie about the conversation he had with Elizabeta, but he decided that it was none of his business.

"No, I was just mentally preparing myself for the journey there." The brit lied, laughing lightly. "I never been ridden on a boat." He has, in fact. His father would often take him boating on Navy ships on summer vacations and taught him how to operate it. HE was very comfortable at sea, to be honest, and he had a feeling that he was still able to work one like a pro.

"Well, Alfred's looking for you. He said that you weren't in the solar where he had left you. C'mon, he's about a minute away from dispatching a search party." The knight didn't wait for the brit to respond, he just gripped him by his shoulder and pulled him toward the general direction. Arthur knew that Alfred would kill anyone for manhandling him this way, but no matter how many times Alfred sees Davie do it, he doesn't care. Arthur knew that they were best friends, but it was just weird that he was so lenient about the boundaries between the two of them. He hasn't even shown an ounce of jealousy, which is crazy because Alfred and Davie are the textbook definition of alphas, and you'd think they'd be very territorial. Especially when it comes to mates.

But according to Davie, he had found a man wandering the forest whom he finds perfect in every way. Davie didn't get into the specifics, but he said that he hopes to see that man again one day. Arthur was curious, but he didn't want to press the topic at the time because Alfred was asking enough questions for the two of them. Davie dodged the questions expertly, if Arthur remembered correctly. If Arthur wanted to know more, he would need to have to have a strategy.

"That man in the woods you are in love with, what color was his hair?"

Davie scoffed. "That came out of nowhere, and I'm not in love with him, I find him attractive. His hair was a pretty color." He said with a shrug, not elaborating.

"What was the color of his hair? I bet it's an ugly brown."

"Excuse me?" Davie looked mildly offended now. "He is gorgeous and has the most vibrant red hair."

"RED HAIR?! You are a complete liar. As if a gorgeous man with red hair would be walking in the woods by himself do nothing." The idea wasn't very hard to believe, but Arthur knew how much Davie hated being called a liar.

"WHAT!? I'm not lying, he was alone and just walking funny so I approached him. It turned out he was struck by an arrow and was really hurt. I helped him, We talked for a bit, but he disappeared before I could get his name." There was no new information in Davie's words, so Arthur had to pry harder.

"I bet he had the most generic nose, so ordinary."

"Actually, it was. That doesn't mean he was generic though." Davie huffed as they approached the fortress, who, by himself, opened the front gate. Davie had almost superhuman strength, and Arthur would be praising the other like crazy if he hadn't seen him and Alfred do it a million times. "He has freckles too. How's that generic?" The brit smiled at his shoes, painting a more detailed image of the mystery man.

"Lots of people have freckles, David." Arthur said with a dramatic sigh. They were now walking down the main corridor, passing by knights who were sighing in relief of the brit's return. "They look happy to see me." Davie nodded in agreement.

"Well nobody wants to go man-hunting in the dead of winter. It's like 20 degrees outside and all you're wearing is a shawl." He stopped to look at the brit up and down. "You could have pneumonia now, you know." he deadpanned. Arthur shrugged, having faith in his immune system.

"I've never gotten sick before. I survived the plague, I can survive in this weather." He sounded a little cocky, but it was warranted, considering staying alive was his biggest accomplishment. How many people can say that they survived homelessness, working as a servant, living on the streets while the grey death was killing everyone off, living underground with nothing but sparse foods and horny rapists, and passing out in the middle of the night in early December weather. Arthur, at this point, had a 100% survival rate, he could do what he wants.

"Okay, but you still should have worn something thicker."

The pair turned around to see a very frustrated looking prince coming their way. Davie kneeled respectfully and the Englishman scrambled to do the same.

"Get up, you idiots" The prince took the Englishman by the hands and pulled him up. Arthur apologized as he dusted himself off, and Davie chuckled as he walked away, leaving the two some privacy. "Don't be sorry, just- Where were you?" he sounded worried, and when the Englishman looked up into his eyes, he could see that Alfred was genuinely concerned. Arthur's hands were still in the other's, so the brit motioned for the two to have some privacy. Alfred understood, and began to lead them back to his study. When they got there, they locked the door behind them and sat on the soft couch in the middle of the solar. They cuddled for a little, but then the prince broke the silence.

"Why did you leave?"

"I went to clear my head. Elizabeta came by."

"Oh" Alfred said, sounding mildly surprised. "What did she want?"

"She wanted to explain herself" the brit repositioned his head on the American's shoulder. "I didn't want to hear it though, so I sent her away" he said through a yawn. He was awfully tired, the soothing atmosphere must've been putting him to sleep.

"Why didn't you want her to explain, I thought you were curious" Alfred began to caress his thighs, which the Englishman allowed. The brit, however, rolled his eyes.

"You just want to know if you were right." He giggled and shook a little in the American's arms. The prince laughed along with him.

"Was I?" he pulled back to look the brit in the eye. Arthur shrugged.

"She said someone in the dungeons told her to say it, but i think it's a load of crap."

"But as far as you know, she's telling the truth, right?" Arthur knew where this was going.

"Yea"

"Then that means I was right, no?"

Arthur sighed heavily, shaking his head.


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning...

Alfred and Arthur cuddled for what seemed like a minute when a sudden knock on the door interrupted their bliss. Arthur smirked at the sound of the prince's growl.

"Who is it?" Arthur called out, getting up from his seat on the coach to open the door. He pulled it open to see a guard with pieces of parchment and mail in his hand, passing the load onto him. "Uh... what's this?" Arthur asked just as the guard bowed. The knight smiled kindly, quirking his brows.

"It's mail, from the motherland." And with that he disappeared, walking off before the brit could press him further. Whatever, he could just read it and learn for himself. As the brit walked over to the prince, Alfred noticed the objects in his hands.

"Arthur? What's that?" The American called, not really expressing any notable emotion. Arthur shrugged and relayed the guard's message. "Oh! It must be from mom!" Alfred smiled brightly as the brit sat beside him, handing him the letters. "I'm gonna read them out loud!" he declared, to which the brit rolled his eyes. Of course he was.

"How do you know it's from your mother?" the brit asked curiously, smirking at the prince's frown.

"Um, because I know my mother's handwriting? Duh!" He quickly looked over the papers in his hands. "They're all from her... well, guess I'll start with this one." He opened up the letter, and Arthur couldn't help but notice the smile on the other's face. He must have really missed his mother. "Ahem, I shall begin now." Arthur nodded eagerly.

 _December 24, 1697_

 _Dear my sweet, sweet boys,_

 _Your father's body already arrived at the castle, we mourned for him and gave him our prayers. Everyone arrived to pay their respects, but for some reason, his own children didn't come._

 _Now, before you two accuse me of nagging, I'm aware that knights may have their own ceremonies to honor the death of their comrades, but, for formalities sake, why didn't the two of you come? Matthew, are you still upset with your father over Francis? Is that why you didn't come? If that is so, I am extremely disappointed in you, to let something like that hinder your relationship with your father._

 _Alfred, you however, have no excuse as to why you didn't want to come. He was not only your father, but your mentor, your role model, your King; you owe him at least a little respect. You managed to scorn your father even beyond the grave. I hope you are proud of yourself._

 _All that aside, I heard of the manner your father was killed, his body was in tatters. To this day, I am in awe over how my once seemingly invincible husband has been reduced to shreds. The British are savages, nothing more than brutes. Do us all a favor and get rid of all of them while you are there, please?_

 _Including this Pendragon, I hear about._

 _I know you think you owe him your life, but you don't. He did the only honorable thing by saving you, considering what his barbaric kind did this to our family; to our nation. I want him out, he will be nothing but a nuisance, I promise you. I expect a reply back soon._

 _Alfred, protect Matthew._

 _Matthew, convince your brother to do the necessary things. He is to be King, soon._

 _Love, Your dear mother,_

 _Queen Martha V_

Arthur nodded numbly as he listened, not sure what to make out of Alfred's mother. She sounded, annoying, but she did sound like she cared. Somewhat. "Uh... Well, one month too late?" Arthur asked, looking at the prince, who was smiling fondly at the parchment. What was so amusing?

"I love that woman, so full of herself. And as for you..." The American turned to face him, placing a soft kiss on the brit's cheek. "You aren't going anywhere. I mean, you are, but as long as I'm with you." Arthur nodded in understanding, glad that the prince wasn't siding with his mother. Who knows what would have happened if the American had gotten this letter earlier. Why hadn't he gotten it earlier?

"Alfred, why are you getting this letter now? She was expecting a quick reply, wasn't she?" The brit took another letter from the pile on the American's lap and read the date aloud. "January 1st, 1698?" Alfred nodded and motioned for him to keep reading, closing his eyes. "But what if I can't pronounce a word?" The American frowned, but after a few moments of mulling it over in his head, he shrugged again.

'If you don't know a word, ask me."

Okay, then.

"Uh _... January 1st, 1698._

 _Dear my sweet boys,_

 _Matthew, thank you for your swift reply. I hadn't heard back from Alfred yet._ "Um... Oh, okay uh, then she says..." _So you too Matthew have become friendly with this Pendragon character. From the way you describe him, he sounds like an angel. However, do not be fooled. The British are known to be swift and cunning._ Is that so? _This is obviously just long con he is trying to execute._

 _Have you heard from your brother? Or is he trying to ignore me for telling him to throw away his fuck toy? Can you imagine, my disappointment in your older brother, Matthew? And if you are the one reading Alfred, shame on you._

 _No matter how many times I had begged you to try and form any romantic relation with anyone, anyone you wanted, you always told me that you haven't found your type. Are green eyed, blonde haired demons your type?!_

"Huh?" Arthur looked up at the alpha with offense, but the prince motioned him to continue.

 _How dare you disgrace me like this. I have tried my best to keep this crap from flowing around the castle, but it has already become a hot topic. I want you to get rid of that filthy_... Arthur's eyes widen impossibly as he continued. _Cunt you are calling a lover, or else._

 _Now that that is settled, let's get down to business. Alfred, your Coronation is on July 4th, and Matthew you are expected to come. I know you aren't at the fortress; that you are frolicking with the French king. Every noble who is available that day, from any country, are invited; our castle has enough room._

 _That skank omega,_ Arthur swallowed roughly at her choice of words, _is not to set foot in this blessed country. You are to arrive one week before the coronation to get settled, and because you will be king, you will not return to England._ "What _?" Hopefully that will keep you two apart._

 _Until my next letter,_

 _Queen Martha V_

Arthur looked up slowly from the parchment, the prince still in the same position with his eyes closed. Arthur knew he was awake though, and the brit had a few questions. "What does she mean that you're not coming back to England?" The American flinched, probably fearing the question. "Alfred, why didn't you tell me before I agreed to go with you?" It came out as a whine, and the other grunted as he opened his eyes, looking at the brit slowly.

"This is the first time that I'm reading the letter, too." So?

"But you knew already, huh? You knew you had to stay." Now that Arthur thought about it, it made perfect sense that way. Why would a King leave his people? But, then again, King George was here, wasn't he? He couldn't run both an entire castle and a fortress; someone else had to be in charge of manning this fortress, and patrolling the waters of Britain, digging out brits, subduing rebellions...

"Your father..." Arthur started, watching intently as the American sat up, giving the brit his full attention. "He was visiting, wasn't he, Alfred?" The prince didn't answer at first, making eye contact with the brit. His usual warm blue eyes were icy now, his expression almost threatening. Arthur, for the first time since they've met, felt genuinely afraid. Was he... was he in charge of all of this? The havoc? Was he behind the constant assaults of his life and those of the British people?

"Arthur, stop shaking like that. My father, the late king of the USA, came over to go boar hunting. I told you this the day we met." The day they met, the memory felt so long ago, but in reality, it was only a month and a half ago. A month and a half is a very short blip in time; it's hard to really get to know someone that quickly. Did Arthur know anything about his alpha?

"You're the one in charge here, right? How long?" he held back the fear and hurt from his voice. Has Alfred been running things for years? How many years? The American fleet came for the second time when he was 17. Alfred would have been sixteen at the time, he couldn't have lead a fleet. The Englishman knew nothing of the American Military, and had no idea how one would rise to commander. The prince, well, is a prince! He could have very well been gifted the position because of his status.

"Arthur? Why are you asking now?" His expression softened, and he smiled slightly. This somehow reduced the hostility the other was feeling, making the brit feel more at ease. He didn't look so murderous anymore.

"I-I just, I don't know. Can you just please answer the question?" Arthur knew he sounded desperate, and by the way the other quirked his brow, he must have looked desperate too. Alfred nodded.

"I'm in charge; I have been for the last 3 years. I was given the position after London had fallen. Before that, I was a squire to my father, who took me with him into battle. He taught me everything I know, including how to subdue the British population and how to manage the affairs of the fortress." He looked annoyed as he spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He taught me that to be a better King, though, it's coming much faster than he would have ever imagined."

Arthur listened to him silently, holding on tight to the other's words. Okay, alright, the brit knew that the American was sensitive about his dad, and Arthur swore to never disrespect the dead again, so he forced his thoughts to go to a different direction. The original point of this discussion. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't coming back? You can't just... sweep me off of my feet, and then abandon me!" Arthur was yelling now, was he losing the only, light in his life? Alfred opened his eyes widely, shocked, and a little taken aback.

"Arthur!" The prince jumped up onto his feet, kneeling in front of the brit, who was currently shaking in a silent rage. How could he do this?! Why Would he!? The brit was only brought back to reality when he felt the warm hands of the prince on his, kissing the dainty fingers. "I will never abandon you! I knew that I had to stay in the U.S, but I was going to ask you to stay with me after the coronation was out of the way. I thought, that maybe, after you saw how magical it can be in the U.S, you'd want to stay with me."

Arthur listened to him, but frowned again. He had no reason to stay in England, and he loved Alfred enough to stay with him forever. But the queen, she hates him, and thinks so lowly of him that The brit wouldn't even have a chance against the mob she would stir up. Arthur would have to start over again, and it would take him at least a month to not be the target of suspicion by everyone around him. So for a month, he would be holed up in his room, only talking to Alfred. The King would be gone most of the day, and the queen would make it her mission to get Arthur out of his life.

She would set Alfred up with a beautiful woman, or man, anyone who was not British. It would only be a matter of time before the American gave in to his mother's antics, either expelling Arthur from his life, or keeping him as, what the queen had put it, a fuck toy. Arthur shook his head; he would never be anybody's play thing.

"That's easier said than done, Alfred." The prince looked confused, and so the brit was forced to clarify herself. "I'll go with you, and I'll stay with you, but you must prove to me that you'll forever be mine and only mine. You have to protect me from your mother too, she doesn't seem to like me much. If you fail to do any of this, I won't hesitate to leave you." He allowed the soft kisses on his hands to extend to his cheeks and his lips. "I mean it, Alfred."

The prince nodded wildly. "I promise; I will never let you down."


	12. Chapter 12

The next day... Arthur POV

Arthur didn't expect to be woken up so early, or so roughly, but as he deciphered what his mate was saying, his eyes opened widely in realization. He dressed hurriedly as he washed his face and brushed his hair and teeth. He couldn't believe his ears.

They had confessed.

He pulled on his boots and laced them silently, completely sober of sleep. He was completely awake, even though his eyes were bloodshot. Alfred slipped on his crown and grabbed Arthur's arms harshly, practically dragging him down the hall. The brit almost had to run to keep up with him, the American much too fast. The brit didn't say anything though; he knew the prince was just anxious and wanted to get this over it. He probably wanted Peter to receive some sense of justice.

The prince didn't wait for the trumpets when they got to the Grand hall's entrance. He didn't wait for anyone to hold the door. Instead, he pushed it open himself, letting go of Arthur as he did so. The brit was suddenly aware of the ache on his wrist; the American's grip being too tight. They walked in in small strides, Arthur being no more than 2 feet behind Alfred. They sat down on their thrones and waited, ignoring the disgruntled face of the Harold. Perhaps he didn't like waking up at 4 in the morning.

The whole hall was filled; every single guard, knight, maid and butler were there, each possessing an almost terrified and frantic expression. John, the Harold, skipped formalities and yelled to call in the prisoners. Arthur watched as two guards escorted a group of about 13 knights into the hall, keeping a respectable distance of the comrades. Arthur squinted at them, instantly recognizing their faces.

They were quite popular around the fortress, Margaret and Arthur often ranked them as some of the most handsome knights in the building. But now, Arthur couldn't help but find their faces repulsive, the sneers on their faces making them look almost grotesque. Arthur looked upon them with beady eyes as they kneeled before them, faces bowed. Alfred hummed, grabbing the attention of the audience.

"Sir Thomas, Sir Xavier, Sir Williams, Sir Grady, Sir Abeles, Sir Smith, Sir Valentino, Sir Richards, Sir O'Brien, Sir Cambridge, Sir Parker, Sir Stanley, and Sir Mathers... You are all charged for the crimes committed on approximately November 23, 1697." He said loud and emotionlessly, staring at his underlings with blank eyes. "These charges included kidnapping, assault, and... murder."

Arthur's eyebrows raised as he snapped his eyes towards the prince. What did he mean murder? They murdered him?! He looked back at the knights in front of him with new heat, a burning hatred searing its way into his heart.

"Sir Abeles, since you were the one to confess, you will be spared most of the consequences." Arthur's eyes flickered. He can't be excused because he confessed! He killed an innocent person. However, Arthur kept his mouth shut, silently fuming as Alfred continued. "However, from this day on, you are all stripped of your knighthood, and you Sir Abeles, and your entire family, will be exiled from the United states and all of its protectorates. You will keep your fortune, but you no longer carry the title of nobleman."

The prince turned to look at the brit, asking him with his eyes if he wanted to ask anything. Arthur had a million questions racing through his mind. Why did they do it? Why did it take so long for them to confess? Why did they target Peter? Arthur paused as he frowned.

 _Why did they target Peter?_

"Why my brother?" He asked, his voice already cracking. Sir Abeles was the only to look him in the eyes, but he still didn't answer. "Why my little brother?" He asked again, this time letting the tears fall. "He was just 16 years old. He could hardly walk, talk, and sometimes even eat." His voice was soft, but the room was so quiet that all of his words could be heard clearly.

"Why him?" He continued. "Why hurt a child?" His voice was cracking with every syllable. "He couldn't have disrespected you, so why hurt him? Why kidnap him? Why...? Why kill him? Why kill him if he did nothing to you?" He swallowed harshly wiping his tears away gently. Sir Abeles returned his gaze to ground, none of the Knights saying a word. The prince finally jumped in.

"He asked you a question, now answer it. Why did you kill that child?" The Knights glanced at each other. "Abeles, tell us what you told me." He commanded. The Knight visibly jumped as he stood. He cleared his throat.

"Why did we hurt your brother?" He repeated. "I, honestly, don't know. We thought it would be funny to see him waddle uphill while carrying our equipment. Whenever we asked him questions, he wouldn't answer, and I suppose that didn't sit well with most of us." He stared down at his hands. Arthur sneered and growled at him loudly, causing all eyes to land on him.

"You thought it would be funny to see my brother struggle with a disability?!" He looked down at them with disbelieving eyes. Arthur thought he was prepared for this day, but he has never been more wrong in his life. "You thought... you thought, because he COULDN'T answer you fucking cunts, you had the right to inflict pain on him?! You're sorry excuses for men. Did it hurt your egos that much? Did it hurt to not be acknowledged like gods?" His tears stopped flowing, now he looked just plain angry. The brit clenched his fist, wanting to lash out on every last person in that god forsaken room, but he held it in.

Sir Abeles, cleared his throat. "Looking back- "

He was interrupted by a loud scoff from Arthur. "Looking back now!? Who the fuck raised you, cattle?! You are grown men, who have been given the duty to protect and serve! You can't tell me that looking back you would have done that differently, as if you didn't know what you were doing at the time was wrong!" He was yelling now, scolding the beasts in front of him. "So don't you dare pretend that you are sorry for what you did! You're just sorry you got caught." His eyes were watering up again, but this time in frustration. The whole room was silent. "Continue!" The brit barked, scaring Abeles.

"We... when he didn't answer our questions, we felt offended, so we settled in a clearing. He took out some wooden swords and gave him one. We... no, THEY told him to train with us to make him stronger." His own eyes began to water too, as if the memory burned. Arthur sneered but he didn't speak. "He refused to fight, so they told him to defend himself..." He trailed off as he began to sob. "I SWEAR TO YOU I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING AFTER THIS POINT!" He gushed out, throwing himself on his knees. "The guilt has been eating me alive!" Arthur closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.

Abeles, he had noticed for over the past few weeks, has been getting thinner, his dark circles got darker, and his hair would look messier every day. Arthur thought it was boredom or depression, but is Abeles insinuating that it was trauma? No, no, no, no. Abeles knew nothing about trauma.

"Abeles, stop talking." He growled. "Leave, go to your chambers and pack up. I don't want to see your face around this fortress in the afternoon." He spat. The man nodded as he left the room, all eyes on him. The brit however, was staring at the row of men kneeling before him. "You!" he pointed at the knight on the far left. "Cambridge! Continue the story." He ordered. The knight looked up and turned to the prince questioningly. Before Alfred could confirm, Arthur spoke again. "I said speak, so fucking speak!" Everyone flinched, and Cambridge nodded in shock.

"We..." His voice was deep, but shaky. "We began to spar with him. He didn't know how to block any of our blows, so they all landed. He began to cry out, probably in fear, probably in pain... whatever it was, it made us want to continue." He said. He didn't sound nearly as remorseful as Abeles had, but considering he was probably going to die, why pretend to care. Arthur felt his heart beat faster.

Peter only cried out when he was scared and confused, never out of pain. He was used to pain, but when bad things happened to them for no apparent reason, that was when he used his voice. He couldn't speak, but Arthur would understand. He would ask why, and the brit would always tell him it was destiny leading them down the road of hardships so when they reached their destination, it would seem sweeter. He had read that on the back of a novel once, but he held on to that philosophy so he could repeat it to Peter whenever he had needed.

Arthur almost sobbed at the image in his head. His brother being beaten with sticks and having no idea why. Crying out and asking what he had done to deserve that treatment, only for it to get worse. And the worst part is that he wasn't there to comfort him, or help him. He covered his mouth with his hands. He felt as if his heart was breaking all over again. He didn't want to hear about any more of the torment.

"How did you kill him?"

Arthur turned to the prince, who had spoken for the first time in a while. Smith, glanced at Arthur, questioningly. Arthur stared back at him for a few moments before realizing he was asking for permission. He nodded slowly.

"After hitting him a few more time, he had fallen on the ground and he began to cry. Abeles wanted to treat his wounds, but we refused. That would only make him weaker." Arthur cut him off with a curse.

"You get treated all the time for your wounds, or are you just forgetting that, you fucking twat!" Smith remained silent. Ugh! "Well fucking continue!"

"We... tied his legs and hands together, and threw him into a tree. And when Abeles tried to take him down... we ran our horses into the trunk. The child, he dropped. He fell and he hit his head. He wasn't moving, he wasn't crying anymore, he was just quiet. Abeles was crying though, that coward. He cleaned off the wound, and tried to stop the bleeding, but it was pointless." He said coldly, looking the brit into his eyes. "He was already dead."

Arthur clenched his fists angrily.

"Where did you put his body?" Alfred asked, knowing that Arthur was about a second away from killing someone. This time O'Brien spoke out.

"We wanted to toss him in a creek, but Abeles wanted to bury him. We tried to tell him that the English don't deserve any graves, but he didn't listen, we had to wait for him to dig a hole and bury that child. It took hours." He was frowning. "He buried him not so far from here actually. A 30-minute walk away from the spring training ground." He shook his head. "He put a grave marker and everything. It is impossible to miss."

Arthur nodded, looking at Alfred for a brief second. "Okay. I want to change the punishments." He stated, not making eye contact with the prince. He heard him hum in consent, and Arthur continued. "I don't want Abeles to be exiled." Arthur couldn't believe he was saying it, but Abeles did try to right his wrong. "I want him to leave the capital though. Maybe somewhere in the midwest, a decent plot of land for him and his family, some of his wealth, a few cattle. He buried my brother, I am completely grateful for that. Though I wish he confessed the day of, I still appreciate that he did."

"Ok... and as for these men?" Alfred asked with a hum. Arthur smiled, albeit, wickedly.

"Simple, I want them to take up their wooden swords and fight to the death." Alfred looked at the side of his face in confusion. "In the spring training grounds, where you killed my brother, I want you all fight to the death there. With wooden swords. And the one who makes it out alive, will get the chance to fight for their freedom in a sword fight against Davie. If they win, they go free, if they lose, Davie will have the last blow." He said darkly.

Alfred frowned as he sat up, looking around for the knight in question. Davie was standing directly beside the prince the whole time, nodding his head in consent, smiling at the men in front of him. Alfred nodded too.

"So let it be so!" He declared.

~~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~~

5 hours later...

The mass of people were now in their warmest clothes as they watched the execution. There was a low murmur moving throughout the crowd. The brit heard them calling this punishment cruel, that it was too severe for the charges. However, the brit saw it as a double standard. How could they punish how they please, and not expect the same treatment? If anything this was Karma.

At least that's what the brit told himself as he waited for the punishment to begin.

Each man was given their own wooden sword, no armor and no shield. The clearing was their arena, and as the men began to circle around each other, the crowd began to quiet down. Many of the people remained in the fortress by the command of Arthur, he didn't want to scar any child for life. So all the kids, mothers, and a few fathers were commanded to stay in their chambers until told to do otherwise. So now, almost all of the guards and knights were sitting in trees to watch the battle, silently rooting for their favorite to make it out alive.

The men began to lung at each other, bringing the Englishman back to reality. They swung and blocked as best as they could, but Arthur flinched every time he heard the wooden stick crack down on someone's head. Sir Smith, after being beaten down a little, became the target of the other 11 knights. They kept on striking him, almost each blow landing on his head, to the point where he was no longer fighting back.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut as he heard his cries of mercy. Arthur pursed his lips as the cries stopped. He heard heavy panting, sobbing, and someone emptying out their intestines. He opened his eyes to see the men either gasping, crying or vomiting near Smith. Arthur looked down at the other's body with teary eyes, saying a silent blessing for the dead man. He looked like a pile of red clothes. His once handsome face no longer looked like a face, but instead a puree of cherries. Arthur held his breath.

The men were no longer fighting, instead, they threw themselves to their knees, begging for the first time since they were caught. "Please!" It was Parker speaking, voice muddled. "WE HAD JUST KILLED ONE OF OUR COMRADES! We can't do this anymore!" He begged through tears, and Arthur noted the other's faces. They were tear streak and scared. Arthur looked out into the crowd, but none of the guards and knights were looking at them. Instead, they were looking at Alfred.

"My lord!" Someone cried out from the crowd. "Don't let a whore tear apart our brotherhood!" Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes. He glanced at Alfred, expecting to see a blank canvas on his face. What he saw, however, was not that. The American looked horrified and disgusted, but he also had accepting, even though sad, looking eyes. He knew it was necessary.

Is this necessary?

Arthur looked back at the body, biting back his tears. That was a painful death, no doubt. A very painful death, and in no way was it quick. But they were monsters, they killed an innocent boy! They murdered together, they die together, simple as that... However, Arthur isn't god, who was he to murder? But anyone in their right mind would call this justice! Arthur looked back at the body, the mangled corpse still oozing blood onto the snow. Arthur closed his eyes.

He felt beyond wrong. He had just killed someone! Even if it wasn't his own hands that beat Smith to death, he had ordered it to be done. The ice cold realization cut through his chest like a dagger. He was disgusting. He was beastly as the rest of them. Arthur had to admit, this punishment was much too extreme; he's shocked he even came up with this. How much anger does one need in their heart to sentence 12 people to do this?

He was brought out of his thoughts when the American raised his hand slowly. "We will have a conversation about this. In the meantime, remove Smith's body." He said smoothly, excusing himself and Arthur. He lead the brit away from the clearing by the hand, not saying a word until they were far enough away from the crowd.

"Alfred?" the brit asked as they rounded a tree, causing the American to stop. The prince turned to face him, and Arthur could already see the conflict in the other's eyes. He frowned, knowing full well what was coming.

"Arthur, I'm begging you." He said. That's all he said. Arthur growled at him.

"What do you mean? We agreed on this punishment earlier!" Arthur didn't know why he was so angry. Maybe because he's angry at himself? Is he angry that no one stopped him before the knight died?

"Arthur, I know you're angry, but please! Even you have to admit that this punishment exceeds the crime." He grabbed the brit's shoulder. "I already stripped them of their knighthood. Can't I just exile them and their families? We could stop now, and punish the rest fairly." Arthur pulled away from him.

"We can't just stop now!" He watched at the other's face contort into confusion. "We already killed Smith, it wouldn't be fair to spare the other's now." He explained, evening out his voice. Alfred shook his head.

"We can still stop, that doesn't matter!"

"Alfred, yes it does!"

"No, Arthur! It doesn't! Do you just want them to die!?" Alfred barked at him, scaring the omega. Arthur opened his mouth, about to say no, but then he bit his tongue. They deserved to die, they did.

They did.

"Yes." He answered honestly, ignoring the look of disbelief on the prince's face. "They should not be pardoned for what they did. A life for a life." Alfred stayed still, not saying anything. He just looked at Arthur with cold eyes, frustrated beyond words.

"Look" He said finally, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know you are angry for what they did, I am too, but... these are my people Arthur." He placed his hands on his hips. "I can't let this happen. I'll pull out the guillotine or something, and end their lives. It'll be painless."

"No!" The brit was furious. "Peter's death wasn't painless! Why should they not suffer too?!" Alfred grabbed the Englishman by the shoulder and shook him harshly.

"STOP IT!" He warned the smaller blonde, growling. "I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD!" Arthur looked at him with blurry eyes, confused and hurt. Why was he getting angry at him? The American has been nothing but gentle to those cowardly brutes, but to his own mate he was raising his voice!? The Englishman opened his mouth, ready to spit out a string of insults, but the look in his lover's eyes made him hesitate. He looked angry, disappointed, and overall just shocked.

The brit bit his tongue, tearing his eyes away from the American and onto the snowy ground. He didn't want to compromise over this matter, he was already in too deep. The Englishman felt the American try and pull him into a hug, probably in an attempt to comfort him, but the brit was angry beyond words. He shoved the American away, turning and stomping his way back to the clearing.

When he stepped back to his place, everyone was silent, curious about the final verdict. It would have been formal to wait for the prince to return, but Arthur had no doubt he was close behind him. He ordered the surviving 11 men to return to the center, just in time for the prince to reemerge beside Arthur. The Englishman was too angry to speak, glancing at Alfred in an attempt to get him to do it.

"You all will die today, however, I have deemed this punishment unconstitutional, violating our eighth amendment, stating excessive bail, fines, nor cruel or unusual punishments are not allowed." He said. "The rest of you will be put to death swiftly, by use of the guillotine, and a portion your wealth will remain with your families, as compensation for the horror we have inflicted upon you. Smith's family, too, will keep a portion their wealth, but they are to lose their status as nobility." He explained.

The men in the center looked grey, but the men surrounding them cheered. They were overjoyed that their wise prince was no longer under the talons of the British beast. How fitting, Arthur thought with a roll of his eyes.

* * *

Midnight... Alfred's POV

Alfred watched as Arthur changed into his nightgown silently, staring blankly in the mirror as he did so. He had been silent since the remaining 11 men were executed, an uneventful, yet sad, event. Alfred made silent prayers for them all, even though they let him down completely. They were some of the best knights on the island, but even so, they were replaceable, and they were no more than pawns to Alfred, in that sense.

But they were still human, so he still felt a pang of sympathy for them and what he had so foolishly forced them to do. It was monstrous of him, he admitted to himself, forcing them to kill their friend in such a brutish manner. He should have never agreed to it, but at the time, in the early morning, after hearing of their crimes, he couldn't help but toss reason out of the window. He just hoped he wouldn't burn in hell for it.

Arthur on the other hand, hadn't talk to him since their argument. His face was contorted into a sneer for the entire day, shrugging off everyone's advances, and just acting very much out of character. Alfred couldn't blame him, seeing that it was his brother who was wrongfully murdered. The American was aware of how he acted when his father first died; he was violent and angry.

However, Alfred had to admit to himself, he would never say this out loud, Arthur had acted beyond inappropriately. He yelled orders in his court as if he ran it, he ordered an execution, which Alfred did sanction, but in his defense, he didn't come up with it. Still, Alfred blamed himself for falling into it, and accepting.

Worst of all, that brit had the _nerve_ to argue with him about ending the execution, saying it was too late now. That had Alfred beyond angry, and the American used all of his self-control to not strike the brit down. He understood that Arthur was angry, but that response was unacceptable. So yeah, he yelled, and he didn't regret it.

Arthur needed to realize his place in this relationship. Alfred is the king, not him. Hopefully he was aware of that now. The prince walked into the bathroom without even glancing at the Englishman. He could be in his feelings all he wants; Alfred didn't need to apologize.

He brushed his hair and placed petals in the bath, grabbing enough soap for two people, just in case Arthur grew up and joined him. He opened the door and watched the brit stare at himself in the mirror. He had already changed, but he hadn't bathed like the fool he was. He must have noticed, glancing slowly at the American who was staring daggers into his side.

"Are you coming in? The water is getting cold." Arthur visibly huffed as he removed his gown, walking into the bathroom, right past the American without a word. He slipped in carefully, pressing himself in one corner. Alfred sighed as he entered too, keeping the distance between the two fairly large. Neither of them said a word. Arthur was staring at his own reflection and Alfred was staring at him.

Why was he so docile now? Wasn't he raising his voice at his alpha a few hours before? Oh the irony! Alfred couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud, causing the brit to look up and eye him warily. He didn't ask, and just went back to staring at his reflection. Alfred sighed internally as he grabbed some shampoo, cleaning his hair, rinsing it out after it had lathered. He conditioned it shortly after, making sure to coat every strand. A good king must have good hair!

After he had finished, he had noticed the brit hadn't moved an inch from his spot, he was still staring at himself. At this rate, he would be in here forever. "Ugh!" He sighed as he threw his head back. When he looked back at the brit, the small blond was looking at him, annoyed. "Hmm" he hummed. "Come over here." He said sternly, but softly. The brit scoffed as he turned his head, rolling his eyes. Maybe he wasn't clear enough.

"Arthur, I said come over here. I won't ask again." He sounded angry, and he was. Arthur was being nothing but difficult. The Englishman turned to him with wet eyes, lips trembling.

What?

"Resorting to threats I see." He said simply as he stood, stepping out of the tub. Alfred looked at him in confusion. Had he threatened him? That wasn't a threat! He hummed out loud. He scoffed as he scrubbed his body clean, not caring. It was late, and he didn't want to deal with Arthur's mood swings at this hour.

When he was done he stepped out of the tub, wrapping himself in a towel. He exited the bathroom to see the brit, with a towel, sitting on the ground, in a corner. Light sobs could be heard, and Alfred felt his heart pang with guilt.

Arthur was his mate. It was his job to make him feel loved, not afraid, or hurt, or whatever! Alfred was ashamed of himself. He patted himself dry and put on a light sweater with black boxers, approaching the brit who had his face hidden in his knees. He didn't notice Alfred's presence until the American pulled him into a hug, which he thankfully accepted this time. He sobbed quietly into his chest, letting the prince scoop him up into his arms.

Alfred knew why he was crying, so he didn't bother asking. All he did was whisper sweet words and apologies, sorry for his harsh words. He has to be careful with Arthur; he was an omega after all. He was sensitive. The Englishman showed no sign of stopping however, leaving Alfred to dress him in a warm nightgown and carefully slipped into bed.

An hour had passed before Arthur eventually calmed down, eyes red and completely out of tears. He looked spent as he clung onto Alfred, closing his eyes as he passed out. The American hummed in relief, glad that Arthur was resting after such a long day. Alfred soon followed suit, closing his eyes and finding his happy place.

~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~

He awoke to a soft knock on the door, but he remained silent because his bones felt like lead. Arthur was still sleeping beside him, snuggled up against a large body pillow Margaret had made for him. The brit would occasionally have back aches, but the nurses said it was just him adapting to the mattress.

The soft knocking continued, so Alfred hummed loudly, causing the brit to flinch in his sleep. The prince stood up carefully and approached the door, opening it to show a half-naked Davie at his door. "Oh, what a sight for sore eyes!" he deadpanned as he walked towards his bed, leaving the door open for Davie. The Knight closed the door behind him, chuckling softly.

"You don't look too bad yourself, hot cakes." Alfred scrunched up his nose, glaring at the knight. Davie blinked innocently at him, placing a single finger on his lips and crossing his legs, like a ditzy pin up girl. Alfred smiled softly, but hummed in annoyance.

"What time is it? And why are you here?" He whispered, suddenly remembering the sleeping man in his bed. Davie shrugged.

"It can't be past dawn, seeing that it's still pitch black outside." He said with a frown. He looked around, eyes landing on the nightstand. "Do you always sleep with a candle on? That's a fire hazard, you know." The prince rolled his eyes. Why does he always do this?

"Is that so? Well, any fire knows better than to cross me." He said with a wave of his hand, arrogance dripping off of his words. Davie scoffed, amused.

"Well, as for why I'm here..." He trailed off, staring at Arthur's unconscious body. He pointed. "I just wanted to make sure that little biscuit over there didn't end up killing you." He said with a warm smile. Alfred looked over to the Englishman and smiled warmly too. He was glad that Davie liked Arthur, because if he hadn't, he wouldn't have known what to do with him.

He and Davie knew each other since... well Alfred didn't know since. He was sure he knew Davie before he lost his memory, seeing that when he first woke up, Davie and Matthew were there everyday trying to help the prince remember them. Davie however, claimed that they met in the infirmary for the first time, when he woke up. The American didn't believe him though. Alfred had to relearn everything about his family and his friends, well the ones he chose to keep that is. He stopped talking to the clingy annoying ones who tried to use their sycophantic ways to get his approval.

Davie and Matthew, however, were always straight forward with him, even if it would make him angry. At first it pissed him off, but he gravitated towards that for the very same reason. They were honest, which is a very rare trait in court, but Alfred guessed it was because of their backgrounds.

Matthew was born and raised in Canada, by his aunt, the Duchess. When she died, he was taken in by their father, and raised as Alfred's brother from the age of 10. He was politer than Alfred, at least that's what his mother always said. He was humbler and kind, and never played favorites. He is loved by all.

Davie was the child of the palace's gardener and head nurse maid. He usually helped in the infirmary with his mother, but when he had free time, he would help his father, they had shared the same interest in flowers. Being of unroyal blood, you would think Davie would be the most sycophantic of them all, but when they first met, in the infirmary, Davie had told him to stop humming because it was annoying. Alfred hummed louder, and the nurse boy had pinched his lips together, threatening to sew them shut.

And that's how he met his best friend.

Whenever his mother tossed him a mate, if he wasn't sure about them, he would ask Davie. Davie had a weird way of reading people, so if Davie gave them a good grade, Alfred would have definitely said yes. He never did though, so Alfred placed his full trust in him and sent them away.

Davie approved of Arthur though, which was good, because the prince wasn't sure if he wanted to introduce the two. He was certain Arthur was the one for him, but what if he wasn't seeing something that Davie could. The meeting over tea had Alfred sweating bullets, but Davie and the brit were talking casually, as if they were friends. After tea, Margaret had taken Arthur to the study, and Davie and him wrestled for kicks.

After their little fight, Davie gave Arthur an 'A+' and sent Alfred on his way.

But now here they were, gazing at Alfred's most important accomplishment in his entire life. The prince loved him, and Arthur loved him too, even if he did get fussy at times. Davie cleared his throat.

"There are little rumors, going around the castle..." Alfred looked up at him. "They say that Arthur is actually a demon, and that he possessed you." The American laughed but Davie looked serious. "That the execution stopped by the sheer grace of god, trying to combat the beast" he pointed at Arthur, in clarification. "Who has taken its hold on your heart." Alfred laughed again, a bit hesitantly, seeing that Davie was still looking at Arthur.

"What? You can't be serious. Look... I know Arthur has a bit of a temper, but other than today, he has never been like that. In fact, he's as sweet as candy, he was just out of character." He frowned as he spoke in the Englishman's defense. Davie held his hands up, redirecting his eyes to look at his friend.

"I don't believe it, but the other's do. I'm just letting you know so you can make sure Maggie is the only one who could prepare his food, so you know." He pointed at the brit. "And I suggest you keep him with you or I, at all times, to prevent an assault of some kind." Alfred hummed. Will that really be necessary?

"Alfred, if anyone else makes his food, he could be poisoned. If we aren't there to protect him, who else would?" He uncrossed his legs. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

Alfred nodded, Davie was making sense.

"Okay, good."


	13. Chapter 13

**5 days later... Arthur's POV**

Arthur walked down the hallway, chatting silently with Margaret and a few British butlers and maids. Since the executions, the Englishmen and women have gravitated to him, impressed with his temper and competence. Currently, they were talking about the weather, like they always did. Something about the weather just seemed so interesting to Arthur; it was so often grey and gloomy, whether or not it rained or snowed.

As they walked down the hall, one of the American maids walked by, eyeing him in fear. When he stared at her back, she stopped where she was, frantically tugging out her cross and thrusting it in the brit's general direction. She was mumbling, perhaps a prayer, as she fell to her knees. She kissed the cross and held it close to her chest. Arthur stopped and watched her, causing the other maids to watch her too.

The brit was beyond confused, for the past four days, this has happened at least 3 different times. They would stop, stare, and start to pray. Did they think he wanted to kill them too? "Don't mind them dear." A middle aged maid with long blonde locks told him. The Englishman looked at her questioningly. "These Americans are a superstitious lot. They'll fear anything that doesn't fear them." And with that she started to walk, to which Margaret linked their arms and forced them to walk in sync.

"Don't worry Arthur." She said as they walked. "Just ignore those nut jobs." The brit nodded, trusting his friend. They were headed out to the greenhouse to see Davie and help. Davie, the Englishman had just recently learned, was here for research purposes, not necessarily for being a knight. He was looking for more plants with medicinal properties to bring back to the U.S. He wanted to test them in various conditions, to see if they were hardy enough to flourish in the states.

The brit found that quite interesting, and was tagging along with the crowd so he could ask Davie questions about his findings.

They entered the courtyard just as a gust of wind roared by, causing the brit to frown. It was bloody freezing out here. He had a thick shawl on, but he could still feel the chill traveling down his back. The group walked briskly to the greenhouse, which was about a 2-minute walk from the courtyard. It was a large glass building with stone steps leading to the front doors. Without even entering it, you could see all of the plants in there, a cluster of green.

They walked up the steps and pushed open the big glass doors to enter, sighing in relief of the still cold, but much warmer, room. The butlers picked up some trays of plants that were left there for them and exited, saying quick farewells. The maids and Arthur wandered around the greenhouse, looking at all of the pretty flowers. They were quite beautiful, even if some of them were wilting due to the cold weather. Most of the flowers remained vibrant, giving of a strong perfume-like aroma.

Arthur stopped when he noticed a plot of blue beautiful flowers. He has seen Davie give Alfred one, but the brit had never asked why and what it was. He was curious now, and he set out to the back of the greenhouse to find Davie.

Maybe after a few minutes of searching, Arthur concluded that Davie was back at the fortress. No one was here. He returned to the group of maids, and told them, ignoring their groans of displeasure. Most of the girls were upset, they had just wanted to visit Davie. He was quite popular around here, most likely because of his good looks. He smiled a lot, had rich indigo eyes, tanned skin, and a fit body.

Arthur wasn't particularly attracted to Davie, but he had to admit, he was just as handsome as Alfred on a technical and physical aspect. Personality wise, Arthur preferred an aggressive, straightforward mate. Davie was a sarcastic, mysterious type; too secretive for the brit. In fact, so secretive that the brit was still unsure of his sexual preference. Whenever he did ask, Davie said the same thing over and over: 'I'm not attracted to people's bodies; I'm attracted to their essence.'

Yeah, whatever that meant.

The brit wasn't ready to go out in the biting cold, choosing to sit down beside Margaret and listen to another maid, Sally, the blond from before, gossip. "Alright, so I was in the kitchens, and I heard Tanya say that she was sick and tired of Geoffrey's constant yelling. She said she was this close" She demonstrated with her fingers in a pinching motion, stopping with almost an inch apart. "From smothering him in her sleep" Arthur, alongside everyone, gasped. Geoffrey was Tanya's new born baby. Arthur would have to do something about that.

"Well," He started, getting everyone's attention. "If she can't handle a child, she should just give it to someone who could." It wasn't much of an opinion, but the girls nodded their heads in agreement. Margaret combed her hair out of her face.

"Who would take him? I know I wouldn't." She stated, all the girls nodded to that too. Hmm, she was right, no one wanted to deal with a child right now, but smothering it shouldn't be an option! People are dying to have a baby, but she's an inch away from trying to kill hers! Now, Arthur isn't trying to have a baby anytime soon, hopefully one day, but not anytime soon, and he and Alfred had just started to get back to normal.

"Well," He had just thought of an idea. "She could care for the child during the day, but let it sleep with a wet nurse during the night." To that Sally shook her head.

"We don't have wet nurses here because mothers are expected to care for their own kids." Oh, the brit frowned.

"Well, then maybe... every few days she passes Geoffrey to someone else's room to spend the night. I mean, how bad can it be?" It's just a baby, how loud can he be?

"Geoffrey is as loud as church bells, I'm not sleeping with that kid." Margaret said, causing the others to laugh. The Englishman scoffed in disbelief.

"He can't be that loud." He tried to defend, but the other maids shook their heads, looking at him with serious eyes.

"With that kid crying, you won't get any sleep, at all. Geoffrey is the worst, only a saint could quiet him once he starts to cry. But I admit, when he's happy, he's the cutest bugger in the world." Sally said with a smirk. "But by all means, Arthur, you can take him!" Arthur pondered with that thought. He would like to have some company when he was locked in his room, it would be a fun learning experience, that may or may not come in handy in the future. But what if he did cry in the middle of the night?

A baby in their room would just piss Alfred off. Especially if it's not his own.

"Ugh, Alfred would never approve." He said sadly, looking down. The girls looked at him oddly as the door was pushed open.

"Alfred would never approve of what?"

Arthur turned to see Davie smiling widely at him and the girls, waving kindly. Arthur ignored his question. "Where were you?" He asked annoyed. The girls, except Margaret, were all silently blushing, begging Arthur to watch his tone. "We were waiting quite a while for you, you know." He used the same annoying voice Davie would use when he spoke. Davie walked past them and over to some flowers.

He didn't have any shawl or blanket on; he was just in a plain, brown sweater, thick black trousers, and black work boots. He carried a tray of about 3 dozen green flowers. Was he not freezing? He was currently holding clippers, focusing on a bright green flower, trimming the thorns off of the sides of its stem. Arthur had seen those flowers before, but just didn't know the names.

"I was out looking for more flowers." He said softly, moving on to the next green flower. "I had read in a journal that a certain green flower, once exposure to rose water, can act as an agent to helping with digestive health. The journal, unfortunately, had no illustrations, so I went out to find random green flowers and try my luck." He placed the green flower down, picking up a next one. He placed the thorns in a container, next to the clipped flowers.

Arthur was impressed with how delicate Davie was being with the flowers.

"So, what did you mean by 'Alfred would never approve'?" He asked, still looking at his flowers. The brit had nothing to hide.

"He would never approve of us keeping Tanya's baby in our room." He saw the confused look on Davie's face, so he elaborated. "Tanya has been stressed out by her new son, and she, at this point, can't stand him. There's a rumor..." he looked at Sally for permission, who nodded dreamily, not really paying attention. "That she is contemplating suffocating her son to get a good night's rest." Davie stopped what he was doing to look up at Margaret, silently asking her if it was true. She nodded.

"Wow, well, if she couldn't handle motherhood, she shouldn't have opened her legs." He said gruffly, returning to his flowers. Arthur couldn't hide the shock on his face fast enough, Margaret already catching it and shaking her head in warning. She was in a relationship, it's not like she was some whore. The brit got the message: don't question him on this one, it's sensitive area.

"Yea, well, since she _already_ gave birth" he continued. "I was just brainstorming some suggestions for her problems."

"Like having him sleepover in someone else's room?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, that's not a bad idea, but you're right. Alfred wouldn't approve, he's such a child about sleep." He said softly, placing another flower down and picking one up. "But I can talk to her." He added as he clipped.

"What?" This time it was Margaret to speak. "And say what, you lunatic?" Davie ignored her insult and placed his flower down and picked another.

"I'd ask her how she is, if she's doing okay. When she tells me she hasn't been getting enough sleep, I'll ask her why." He placed down that flower and placed the thorns in the jar. "Then, when she tells me her problem, I'll volunteer to watch over him during the night." He said smoothly.

"What?" Margaret and Arthur said in shock. Davie? Care for a baby? How is that possible? He looked up at them in offense, eyes narrowing as he stared the two down.

"I'll have you know, back at the castle, I would help my mother with wet nursing the noblemen's infants. She often left me alone with the babies so she could focus on the adults who came in." He stated. "I'm more qualified to care for this child than any of you are." He said, looking down at his flower and continuing to cut. Arthur quirked his brows, but he didn't know whether or not he was lying.

He'll have to fact check with Alfred later. But for now... "I'll take your word for it." He said innocently. Davie scoffed playfully and the atmosphere returned to normal.

~~~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~~~

Arthur eventually went back into his room and sat silently on his bed, staring at the wall. For the last few days, he had been doing this. He didn't know why, but staring at the wall helped him focus on nothing. When he was alone, he didn't like to think, because it always went back to Peter, and his mother and his father and his brothers and the life he used to have.

He tried to focus on more positive things, like the love he has for Alfred and the love Alfred has for him. Arthur let himself fall over onto his body pillow, closing his eyes. It was about 6 in the afternoon. It was a good time for a nap.

~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~~

 _Waahhhhhhh~ Waaahhhhhh~_

Arthur flinched, scrambling as he was suddenly awoken from his sleep. What the fuck was going on!? What was that noise?! His flailing lead to him falling off of the bed, landing on the ground with a thud, cursing as he hit the ground, behind aching. Who was screaming like that?!

The Brit's thoughts were interrupted by the loud laughter of two intruders. The Englishman stood up quickly, grabbing the closest thing to him, a candle stick holder, and waving it around in front of himself like a sword. This only made the laughter louder. The candle was out, so there was no light shining through to help Arthur see. All he heard were the blaring cries and the obnoxious laughter of his assailants.

"Arthur Pendragon III, relax. It's just me and Davie. Oh, and Geoffrey." It was Alfred speaking, well panting through his giggling. Arthur put down the candle stick, cursing obscenities as he lit it, instantly illuminating the room. He placed his hands on his hips as he waited for an explanation.

"Well," Davie started, bouncing the baby a little so he would stop crying. "It worked. Little Geoffrey is going to spend the nights with me now." Arthur stared at him wide eyed, beyond shocked that Tanya would actually give Geoffrey up like that. Davie must have noticed Arthur's face, so he elaborated. "Tanya didn't plan on having Geoffrey, and his father was one of the knights killed alongside the late king. She said the stress was too much, and that looking at him makes her remember his father, who she hates for dying."

He said that with a shrug, the excuse made no sense to him. Arthur kind of got it, but Geoffrey can't help who his father is, Tanya just needed to get over herself and be a mother. Geoffrey was about 3 weeks by the looks of it, much too young to be the object of his mother's frustrations. He was perhaps better off with Davie.

However, none of this explained what they were doing in here.

"Why are you here?" he asked coldly, glaring at the men. Alfred cleared his throat and spoke.

"I came here to wake you up for dinner, and Davie decided to join me along the way." He spoke with a smirk, as if he had won a game or whatever. Arthur personally didn't see what was so funny. That child cried as if its life was on the line, how was he not supposed to jump and cry out? Sally wasn't kidding about that child's tonsils; he was much too loud. At least for his size.

The baby was silent now however, cooing as he bounced softly in Davie's arms. His face was buried in the knight's neck, mumbling and probably drooling, happily. Davie has subdued that child easily enough, he himself would have struggled with an infant. Perhaps he was much more qualified than Arthur thought. Alfred noticed him staring at the other and chuckled.

"Davie is surprisingly gentle with that little guy, huh?" Alfred patted Davie's shoulder. The babysitter scowled at him, sticking out his tongue in challenge. Geoffrey continued to mumble as the prince made his way to the brit, wrapping an arm around him affectionately. "He is awfully loud though. I'm glad you kept the brat." He kissed the brit's cheek, who swatted him playfully.

"He isn't keeping him, he's babysitting." He corrected.

"Yeah!" Davie chanted quietly, bouncing the baby softly. He grabbed the baby's hand gentle and shook it a little. "I'm just babysitting."

* * *

 **Davie's POV**

Davie entered his room with baby Geoffrey on his hips, the infant yawning continuously. The baby had wanted to nap earlier, but Davie kept on distracting him with all different types of plants while they were together in the greenhouse. He figured keeping him awake more often would help him sleep longer. The first thing Davie did was lay the baby down on his mattress and undress him from his warm garments. Geoffrey began to whimper, getting fussy. Davie sighed.

"Geoffrey... you can't keep your clothes on forever~" he said in a soft squeaky voice. He wanted to stimulate the baby's mind. When he finally finished undressing the baby, he returned the infant to his hip and went to the bathroom and dug around for the basin his mother gave him for washing her son. The knight soon found the basin, a green bucket, and dunked it in his tub, which was already filled by the maids. The water was warm, thankfully, and he had no problem bathing the child, scrubbing what little dirt was on his skin.

The knight squirted some shampoo on his hand, only a dime sized amount, and ran it through the Geoffrey's wild brown curls, making sure to steer clear of his fore head. After the baby's bath, Davie used the dingy grey towel the child's mother gave him, and wrapped him in it, placing him in the old crib he had asked the guards to put in his room. He set Geoffrey down and undressed hurriedly, taking a quick bath and dressing warmly. He dug through the bag Tanya had gave him and found that almost all the clothes were paper thin.

Davie made a mental note to get him more clothes.

Davie had no choice but to layer the clothes on top of one another, wrapping the baby's bottom with fresh loincloth. He also pulled a small hat over the baby's head and a few socks over his feet. He didn't want the baby to catch a cold, even if the room was only a little chilly. The boy was still whimpering and yawning, his huffs getting more strained then the last. Davie smiled, lifting the junior up. "Little buddy wants to go to sleep?" He sat on his bed and rocked him softly, singing a nursery rhyme as he did so.

 _There was an old lady who swallowed a fly  
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - perhaps she'll die!_

 _There was an old lady who swallowed a spider,  
That wriggled and wiggled and tiggled inside her;  
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;  
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!_

 _There was an old lady who swallowed a bird;  
How absurd to swallow a bird.  
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,  
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;  
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!_

 _There was an old lady who swallowed a cat;  
Fancy that to swallow a cat!  
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,  
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,  
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;  
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!_

 _There was an old lady that swallowed a dog;  
What a hog, to swallow a dog;  
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat,  
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,  
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,  
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;  
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!_

 _There was an old lady who swallowed a cow,  
I don't know how she swallowed a cow;  
She swallowed the cow to catch the dog,  
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat,  
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,  
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,  
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;  
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!_

 _There was an old lady who swallowed a horse...  
She's dead, of course!_

By the time Davie finished the reciting, little baby Geoffrey was already fast asleep. His slightly up turned nose twitched in his sleep, his long brown lashes shifting ever so softly. The Knight walked over to the crib and placed the baby down gently, covering him with one of Davie's warmest shawls. The knight sighed happily; he could get a hang of the parenting thing. He blew out his candle and threw himself on the bed, cherishing the soft texture.

Ah, finally sleep.

He twisted and turned on his bed, trying to find a comfortable position. He couldn't. He screeched internally, frustrated at his fucking condition. Insomnia, they called it. Which explained why he was working so hard. The more challenges he has, the less energy, and the more willing his body is to sleep. It had worked as of fall, but since then, sleep had evaded him.

He pouted, his frustration turning into boredom.

Usually, he would just go out to the greenhouse and work some more, or read a journal, but he couldn't just leave an infant by himself. And as for reading... he wasn't in the mood. He let out a frustrated sigh. He figured he might as well just think. Should he dwell on the past, or look forward to the future?

Past.

He hadn't seen that red head again, but after such a long time of not seeing a trace of him, he has lost interest. He was pretty, sure, but Davie was drawn in by his mysterious aura. No doubt was he bad news, seeing that he fit Alfred's description of the bandit who attacked him to a 'T'. He had told Alfred that he had seen the red head swordsman out in the forest, but he just didn't tell him that it was the same man he had found attractive in the woods.

And he was glad he didn't, seeing that Davie couldn't care less about the bandit now.

He sighed, suddenly dreading the next day. It wasn't Geoffrey, or Alfred, or one of his friends; it was the fact that he had to go back to that greenhouse and play with plants all day. Davie loved flowers, and helping people, but he didn't want to spend the last 3 years of his life looking at plants and searching for potential medicines. Yes, he could garden. Yes, he had medical experience. However, the last 3 years have been dreadful working with the same plants trying to find a treatment for something he had almost no strains of.

What Davie really wanted to do was still a mystery to him. He's 23, about to be 24, and he hadn't found anything he wanted to pursue. He's a knight, one of the best knights in the king's regime, but he only became a knight because Alfred refused to go to England without him. He became the squire of Sir Cambridge, and given the assignment of growing plants in place of his mother, who was the original choice.

 _2 birds with one stone_ , they said. _Wow Davie, you're so lucky_ , they said. They were all wrong, the rock missed and Davie was the unluckiest man alive. He hardly went to any battles, all he did was train and pick flowers. No one took him serious at first, because he was the son of the palace gardener and doctor. He wasn't of noble blood. However, he soon proved himself to one of the strongest here, one of the most skilled.

By his second year, when he was 21, he was knighted, much to the influence of Alfred. There was talk of his knighthood being illegitimate, seeing that he was only a squire for a year, however, the princes handled that talk by publically praising him and giving him their blessings, He was appreciative, but even as a knight, he was often left behind on raids because he was told to focus on his research.

Davie had studied more than 196 kinds of flowers, testing and trying each kind numerous amounts of time to see if they could soothe stomach aches, treat wounds, fight infections. Most plants deemed useless, but Davie had found a significant amounts of flowers that do aid in digestive health, and that fight colds, kills bacteria, stops bleeding, headaches, and tuberculosis. He has yet to find a plant that can treat serious ailments like the blood diseases that ran rampant in poverty stricken areas.

Even if he had found a flower, he didn't have enough strains of said blood diseases to test each flower.

And that was perhaps the most frustrating part of this whole experience. His lack of materials made him feel as if he was on a wild goose chase. Why send him? He wasn't going to find anything of value here on this island, he just wanted to go home already. He missed his mother and father, going outside into the towns, and spending his time at public parks.

He sighed again, shaking his head. He should try and get some sleep, all this thinking can't be good for his self-esteem. He rolled over to his side, and smiled when he felt sleep creep up on him.

 _WAAAAAAHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAHHHH!_

Davie flinched, cursing as he lit the candle and pulled himself off of the bed. He approached the crib to see Geoffrey, who hasn't even been asleep for more than half an hour, crying. He was 4 weeks, why is he this loud!? Davie chuckled as he lifted the child, bouncing him gently. He began to sing again, swaying back and forth with the infant in his arms. After the song was finished, Geoffrey was sniffling, no longer crying, but still nowhere near sleepy.

"Geoffrey, Davie wants to get some sleep." He said in a squeaky voice. "You should too, Geoffrey, it's good for your immune system, which is very important for his time of year." He lectured, and Geoffrey went quiet, staring at Davie with big ice blue eyes. "Sleep is a good thing; you should take advantage of it while you can. Like, if I had the opportunity to sleep all day, I would. The greenhouse looks fun, but it really isn't. It's boring, cold.. it smells nice though. However, I would prefer to do something less restricting, less limited. I don't like being confined in a single room. It makes me anxious." Davie thought for a little bit about what he said. Could it be the same for Geoffrey?

"Do you like your crib? Do you wanna sleep next to me?" He asked, sitting down on his bed, holding Geoffrey by his armpits. He scooted until he was laying on his back, putting Geoffrey, on his back, on his chest. Geoffrey cooed a little, thrashing a little bit, but he started to settle down, his breathing even. Davie refused to sleep, just staring up at the ceiling. Maybe this is just what he needed, space.

After about an hour and a half, Geoffrey rolled off of him and onto the other side of the bed, giving Davie the opportunity to lay on his side and try to sleep. He fell asleep almost instantly, every now and then being woken up Geoffrey bumping into him, but never by crying.

Maybe this arrangement could work.


	14. Chapter 14

11:30 am

Arthur sat down in the corner of his room, panting, internally screaming. This can't be happening! This can't be happening! He looked down at his hands again, staring at the yellow piece of parchment that he found under his bed when he woke up. It was a letter addressed to him. One he thought he would never get.

 _Dear Arthur,_

 _I am not sure how to tell you this, but, we're alive. All three of us, Dylan, Allister, and Seamus, are alive. Dylan told me about the encounter in the woods, how you were left for dead. I don't know why you are in the American Fortress, but we won't let you suffer anymore._

 _Where is Peter? Our scouts cannot find him. Is he working in the dungeons? Is he working in the kitchens? Is he dead? When we come, we will retrieve both you and Peter, and finish what we started. These Americans believe they can run rampant and hunt us down like cattle, but we won't let that happen anymore._

 _That fortress is going down._

 _I know you have a million questions you want to ask us, and all will be answered in person, for now I want you to reacquaint yourself with our informant. We won't mention their name, but they will come and talk to you at noon. Be willing._

 _We will retrieve you both in a fortnight, no later than that. We expect you both to be ready for the journey to a neighboring city. Pack lightly and tell no one, our informant will keep tabs on you to make sure you're doing alright._

 _Until we meet again, your brother,_

 _Allister_

This short letter was enough to have the brit feel a ball drop into the center of his core. He had no idea who the informant was, or how he had managed to slip into the room and leave the letter, but Arthur was going to request 24-hour security. Alfred wouldn't hesitate to comply, as long as there was a valid reason.

But, how is Arthur going to explain this. That his brothers were still alive, and the brit had seen at least one of them?! Alfred would feel beyond betrayed, angry, and hurt. Who knows how he would react? He could get violent, though not with Arthur, but with someone else, someone who probably didn't deserve it. However, Arthur knew better than to keep this a secret from the American, it would only cause trouble later on.

The Englishman wiped the tears from his cheeks. The ones he hardly remembers falling. He sniffled as he stood up, ready to tell his findings to the prince, who was currently in the study. He folded the letter up and shoved it in his pocket, not caring to reseal it. He went to the bathroom to wash his face, so the maids wouldn't stop him on his way and ask him what was wrong. He looked at himself in the mirror, judging his appearance.

His eyes were still red, the space under his eyes puffy. His hair was disheveled; his nose was red along with his cheeks. He didn't look so good, but he didn't look bad and that's all that's matters.

He left the bathroom, approaching the door. His hand was just about to twist the handle when a soft knock broke the silence. Arthur pulled open the door, gasping as he was pushed back harshly. He landed with a hard thud on the ground, crying out as the door was slammed shut. The brit shut his eyes, crawling away from his attacker. He screamed as he did so, but he knew that since the door was closed, most of the sounds would be muffled anyway.

"Arthur! Shut up for a second! It's me!"

Arthur stopped yelling, eyes narrowing as he panted. His blood boiling, he turned his head around and glared at the woman behind him. Elizabeta stared at him with bright eyes, expression equally as pissed.

"Are you trying to get us killed, or are you just stupid, Kirkland?" Arthur flinched at the sound of his real last name, staring back at the Hungarian with shock. She knows? The brit stared at her, not saying a word. Is she going to tell everyone? The Hungarian smiled.

"I'm not going to tell Alfred, if that's what you're worried about." She said cockily, with a smug smile. Arthur had half a mind to tell her that he already knew, anything to get that confident look off of her face, however, he decided to about this smarter.

"You're the mole, huh?" Arthur asked, not waiting for her to answer. "How long have you been working for my brother?" He asked condescendingly. She walked past the brit and sat on his side of the bed, staring at her nails.

"When I was thrown into the dungeons. Allister was the voice who told me to lie during the trial." She said bluntly. Arthur gritted his teeth.

"How did he get in?" There was long pause, an awkward shift in the atmosphere. Well?

"I don't know." She said simply. Arthur frowned, knowing full well that she was lying.

"So what now? What do you want from me?" Arthur asked, he still didn't know the point of this meeting. Elizabeta looked up at him and frowned, not quite understanding. "What do you want?" He asked again. Elizabeta eyed him curiously.

"Did you read the letter?" She asked back, unsure of the question the other was asking. Arthur nodded. "Well, then you should know." Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"You know damn well I don't want to leave! I love Alfred and I'm not leaving for anyone! You can tell that to your little boss the next time you see him, okay?" He said angrily in a shill voice. Elizabeta looked at him uncertainly.

"I don't know if you have a choice, Arthur. Your brother seems hell bent. He had already started raising a militia and he is probably arming them as we speak." She said. "I don't know where he's getting the supplies from, though. Maybe another country?" She said with a shrug.

Arthur was equally baffled, but he knew there was only one answer to his problem. "We need to tell Alfred. He may be able to pardon you if you help us get information on the assault." Arthur said, a little confident in what he was saying. Alfred, before anything else, was strategic, so he knew better than to let this opportunity die.

"He's your brother" The Hungarian said with a crossed expression, a little unbelieving in what Arthur was saying. "You would betray him so easily, I'm a little surprised." She said honestly, and Arthur felt his cheeks flush. What does she know!?

"I have been suffering underground for 3 years, and he hadn't done a thing to help me! But now that has gotten word that I'm living happily with Alfred he's suddenly worried. Tell that man that he could shove his little escape plan up his arse. I don't want anything to do with it!" He said with a huff, getting up and heading towards the door.

"Wait!" She said, but Arthur was already out of the door, walking down the halls to find the prince.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Arthur fumbled around nervously through the pages of a random book as Alfred read over the letter. Alfred began reading the letter about 5 minutes ago, so it was obvious that he had read a multitude of times. After what seemed like forever, the prince glanced up at him, with a little frown before clearing his voice.

"Arthur, why were you fussing over this? What is this anyway?" He asked confused and slightly annoyed. Arthur blinked at him equally as confused. What? Why was he fussing? What was it? What does he mean what is this?

"Can't you read!? It's written in plain English!" The brit whined, slamming the book in his hand closed. Alfred stared at him with narrow eyes as he looked back down at the letter, then back at Arthur, and back at the letter again. He began to hum, shaking his head, he still didn't get it. "Are you playing stupid? This isn't a joke Alfred; someone is trying to attack the castle!"

"What!?" Alfred said, dropping the letter on his desk and fumbling through his desk drawers. The brit watched as he put on his 'special' glasses, ones he rarely uses anymore because he thought it made him look ridiculous. He was right, the round bifocals were at least 2 inches in diameter, and bright red, so it made him look quite comical. It even now, even with his grim face. However, Arthur had no idea why he was wearing it, he could read it just fine.

"Are you done, you need to tell the others!" the brit pleaded. "He raising a small militia and he's trying to kidnap me!" He explained. Alfred sighed frustratingly. He glared at the brit, clenching his jaw to muffle his growl. Was he angry now? Arthur stopped talking, looking at the American warily, who had quickly composed himself.

"Arthur, all I see are shapes and symbols! I can't fucking understand it, fucking tell me what's going on!" He pleaded. He sounded confused and distressed, not liking this weird shit. Arthur approached him quickly, picking up the letter.

"All I see is English!" he spat. He glanced down at the American who glowered at him again. Arthur turned back to the letter and squinted, unsure of what was going on. To his shock, the blurrier his vision got, the more shapes he saw. "Oh shit! It's from them!" Those weird magic people. He thought it was a dream, what the fuck is going on?

"From who?" Alfred asked. "Read it to me."

"Ok" Arthur said with a sigh.

~~~Wounded Knight~~~

Alfred stared at the brit blankly for a few minutes, comprehending what he had just heard. Arthur hadn't moved an inch, still with arms reach of the prince. Arthur didn't make eye contact, just avoiding the other's gaze wildly. "Alfred..."

"Don't!" He barked, shocking the other. "Don't say anything anymore! Why are _you always_ the bringer of bad news!?" He snapped, catching the brit off guard. Arthur bit his lips shut so he wouldn't say anything. When Alfred throws a tantrum, it's better to let him have his way. "Why didn't you tell me your brothers were alive?! What encounter in the woods?!"

Arthur whimpered a little before answering. "I only found out that all of them were alive because of the letter." He explained. "The encounter in the woods happened when I got lost while looking for you. I was dying of hypothermia when I ran into Dylan, and then I passed out. When I woke up and you guys told me that I was deep in the forest, I had a feeling that he was the one who took me that far. He was probably trying to take me to his home base." He said honestly. Alfred looked at him blankly as he stood up, pacing the room.

"Who's the mole?" He asked. He was met with silence, for Arthur didn't know if outing Elizabeta so suddenly would work in his favor. "Who is it!" the American growled. The brit swallowed harshly.

"It's Liz. But don't worry, I think you could use her to your advantage." Arthur said quietly. Alfred squinted at him for a while.

"Liz?" he asked, looking at the brit with an exasperated face. "Liz _as in_ Elizabeta?! She's the f _ucKING_ MOLE. WHEN DID SHE BECOME THE MOLE?! SHE'S BEEN LIVING AT THE FORTRESS FOR 3 MONTHS!" The American was yelling loudly, approaching the brit angrily. Arthur stepped back, terrified. He thought Alfred was bad the night before the trial, but this was escalating quickly, and the Englishman had a feeling this time would be worse.

"Alfred I... I didn't know she was the mole until this morning!" He squeaked out as the American grabbed him by his arms. "She told me that they met in the dungeons while she was awaiting trial. Allister was the one who told her to lie in court." He confessed, trembling as he did so. Alfred stared at him coldly before releasing him.

"Allister? Is he a red head?" He asked, somewhat calm. Arthur nodded. "Then he was probably the one who ambushed me, and killed my father, huh?" He asked again, pinching the bridge of his nose. The glasses were still on his face, so the prince took it off, placing it on his desk. Arthur didn't know what to say to that.

"Uh..." He started, but didn't finish. He just looked down, his tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. His brother had _killed_ Alfred's father. He _is_ the bringer of bad news. He brought his hands up to cover his mouth as a way to silence his rigid breathing. He sniffled silently as the prince opened the door, ordering two guards to call in Elizabeta, and to initiate a lockdown.

"Well," The prince said, in his normal monotone voice. "We're sealing every opening in this place, and we won't leave this castle until the boats are ready. Nobody crosses me twice and lives." He said rather darkly, approaching the brit for the umpteenth time. "And nobody is going to take you away from me." He opened his arms and Arthur ran into them, so glad that this argument didn't last nearly as long as it could have.

Arthur was also grateful that the prince wasn't angry at him. Alfred's personality could come off as a bit harsh when they weren't on friendly terms. Their embrace was interrupted by a harsh knock. The prince opened the door to reveal a disheveled Hungarian woman, who looked as if she was hiding underneath a nest.

"This maid was hiding the courtyard bushes. She appeared to be escaping." Alfred nodded and thanked them sending the guards away. The second the door closed, the American grabbed the maid by the hair and dragged her into the center of the study. Arthur watched in mild discomfort. The woman was then flung onto her back with a hard thud, the towering over her with a hateful look.

"Where were you going?" The Hungarian looked away, closing her eyes and ignoring his question. He slammed his foot on her left wrist, which was outstretched due to the fall. She howled in pain as he continued to apply pressure on it, sending pangs of guilt through the brit, who was standing by watching idly.

"Alfred, perhaps you should try more peaceful ways of interrogation." The brit suggested, from a safe distance. The prince ignored him and continued to press forward.

"You have betrayed the United States of America, and for that you will suffer greatly." He spat. "Your little twins, they're goners. They won't see the light of day ever again. You want to feed information to savages, I'll grind them up myself and feed them to my hounds! How does that sound!?" He growled. Elizabeta screamed.

"PLEASE! Please don't hurt my children! They're innocent!" she begged through her pain. Arthur knew that the prince was lying, he knew that the twins were in no danger, but a part of him was still repulsed by the threat.

"Nothing coming out of you can be innocent! Your husband will watch as I kill your fucking kids and I'll have him be the one to set your body on fire, you fucking dirty no good lying bitch! Then, when you're all dead and gone, I'll tie your precious husband to four horses and have them pull him apart! No one will ever make the same mistake you have!" He barked, removing his foot from her wrist only to kick her in the ribs.

"ALFRED THAT'S ENOUGH!" Arthur commanded, grabbing the prince by his hand and pulling away. "Don't say such terrible things, and don't ever hit a woman like that!" He scolded, turning to Elizabeta and trying to sit her up. She winced when he touched her waist but she accepted his help gratefully.

"Liz" Arthur said softly, once he had seated her on the couch. She looked at him with expectant eyes. "Where were you going? You should have known it would have been a horrible idea to try and escape." He waited about 30 seconds before she decided to answer.

"I was going to leave a letter for your brother telling him that you didn't want to go. I was forced to hide when the guards called my name." She said finally. Arthur nodded in understanding.

"Liz, do you mind playing along for us?" He asked rather bluntly, not knowing how else to ask it. "Perhaps give us the letters he gives you, feed him false information about us." Liz looked at him with fearful eyes before shaking it wildly. That's when Alfred jumped in.

"Hinder him, in return for your family's safety." He said bluntly, grabbing the brit by the arm and yanking him away. Arthur winced as he was dragged, but he clung onto his alpha anyway, allowing himself to be enveloped by the other's large arms, which wrapped protectively around him. "I mean it, Elizabeta." He said finally. The Hungarian nodded.

"Alright" she said softly. "I'll rewrite the letter the way you want me to... that way you'll trust me." She sounded uncertain, but the brit couldn't blame her. Being a double agent didn't seem too easy.

* * *

Arthur left the room once Elizabeta and Alfred began working on the letter, glad that this dispute was in better hands. The brit had a feeling that if he had tried to settle things himself it would've ended in bloodshed and him on the back of wagon heading towards home base. Whatever home base was.

Perhaps it was their old family farm, or that farm Arthur had seen in his dream. Well, not dream, considering that it was indeed real. The letter was written in a different language, on that the brit could only translate, meaning that what he read in that... vision? Other dimension? Well, whatever it was, it meant that the letter was at least a little bit truthful. He was magical.

But how magical?

Did it stop at translation? Or could it reach to casting spells? Arthur, oddly enough, wasn't afraid. He was quite intrigued. This could be really fun, having magic. Perhaps he could fly away from his problems now. He laughed at his own joke, ignoring the confused stares. He walked back to his chambers, closing the doors behind him.

What should he do? He looked at the clock. It was a little past noon, so he pretty much had the whole day. Margaret is busy, and Davie is in the greenhouse so he would be too. The knight was probably with Geoffrey, in that cold insolated room. Arthur smirked, making up his mind. He's going to spend the day with Geoffrey.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

"Why not~!" Arthur whined, frustrated. He and Davie have been going at it for at least 5 minutes. "I'm great with kids, I'll feed him whenever he gets hungry and I promise I'll change his diapers." He pleaded. Davie, to the brit's surprise, was very protective over the infant, a child he only had for a few hours. Davie stared at him skeptically with his deep indigo eyes, clutching the baby, who was cooing, against his chest.

"You don't know how to care for an infant, I think it'll be best if he stays with me." He said softly. Arthur pouted, flashing the knight a sad glance. Davie bit his lip, an empathetic look gracing his features. He sighed grumpily. "Why don't you hang out with Maggie?"

"Who?" Arthur said absent-mindedly, trying to figure who to spend the day with. Davie repeated himself.

"Margaret? Madeline Margaret Shelley? Your BFF? You know who I'm talking about, Artie. Why do you wanna hang out with Geoffrey all of a sudden?" Arthur looked at him curiously. Why did he want to spend the day with an infant? Geoffrey was cute, but... was there a deeper reason?

"I don't know" he said finally. "Alfred's busy, Maggie's busy, you're busy, and I figured the only other person who I can actually be myself around is Geoffrey. He's a baby, so there is no way he could reject me." Arthur said with a soft chuckle. He sounded pathetic, but he was pathetic, so he didn't feel so down about himself.

"Arthur, you could watch Geoffrey for a few hours while I work, but you have to stay in your bed chamber." He ordered with an exasperated sigh. Arthur beamed at him as he went to retrieve the green eyed infant, who was wrapped in a heavy black shawl. Davie, to Arthur's surprise, kissed the baby on the head before passing him on to the brit.

The baby was light as he buried himself into the Englishmen's neck. He had brown hair, and his skin was very pale. However, not sickly, which made the brit very happy. The brit spoke to the baby in a squeaky voice, patting Davie on the shoulder with his free hand. "Thank You" he said simply as he used the baby's hand to wave. Davie waved back, a relaxed smile on his face.

"Be careful, okay?" He said rather than asked. "Don't leave him alone, and make sure he stays warm." He said, turning over to his work bench, getting ready to continue his work. The green flower petals from yesterday were now soaking in a plastic dish filled with water. Davie waved them off, telling the pair that he would get there sometime before dinner.

~~~Wounded Knight~~~

2 hours later...

Geoffrey was laying down on Arthur's chest as he was reading, keeping each other company. The infant was sleeping, so the soft rise and falls of his chest were the reminders of his presence. Arthur was reading a book about witches in the history of England. To say the least, their fates were grim.

They were burned to the stake, or forced to escape, leaving everything behind. According to the book, the last official witch sighting in England was about 1100 AD, and that woman, a widowed and orphaned alpha, was Athena Kirkland, who was sentenced after her coven unleashed demons onto a small village. Apparently, the church had to send at a dozen priests to exorcise the place, before burning down the coven's headquarters. Most of the members burned alive, leaving only Athena Kirkland, the leader, alive.

The book also said that she had a sister, Daphne Kirkland, a discarded omega, who was assumed to be burned alive with the rest of the coven. However, there were a few accounts from farmers and priests claiming that a young woman of long, wild blond hair was seen fleeing the fire with a child. The Kirkland sisters were known around town for their wild blond locks, so it was a reasonable guess. They searched for her, but after a year of no clues, they discontinued the search, presuming her dead. Arthur frowned.

Well, he was related to her in some way, he just wished there was more information on her. And that child she was with. He would like to think that she met a nice man who didn't care about her past relationships, and she fell in love and had kids, who had kids, who had kids, who also had kids, who had Arthur's father, Uther, who had him. He smiled at the thought. However, 200 years is a long time, and he was certain there were some discrepancies in his family line.

He sighed heavily. He wished he had some more answers. Maybe those magical group members who locked him in a barn in his 'dream' had some answers, but he didn't want to interact with any of them, in case they were in allegiance with his brothers.

His brothers.

Arthur closed his eyes. He tried to avoid thinking of them as to avoid getting a headache. His brothers were still alive, yet Arthur hardly held any kinship towards them after all of his suffering. He can't blame them for not knowing he was alive, seeing that he thought they were alive, however, he really didn't want them to come back. They were better off dead in his eyes, seeing that American forces would wipe them out in a minute. Their father, Uther Kirkland, was such a strong leader, a wise strategist. He would never do anything as brash as send in a militia against a nation as strong as the U.S, especially if he had no supplies. Where were they going to get it form? Were they going to pull it out of thin air? Arthur paused for a moment.

Could they?

They were probably magic too, now that Arthur thought about it. They could very well have magic! Very strong magic! They could have known practiced for years. Looking back, it would explain the bizarre victories Arthur's father had against the U.S during the first stages of war. It was only when the American brought their new technologies that the English's momentum dropped. They were probably caught off guard. And now that the brits have gotten used to U.S technology, chances are they had developed some technique to defend against it.

They were coming in a fortnight, there was nothing Arthur could do. He couldn't tell Alfred, he wouldn't believe in magic, in fact, he would just be annoyed. Arthur knew full well he couldn't handle it himself. He was at a loss for words.

Perhaps he was just overthinking things. Perhaps their magic wasn't as strong as he thought, perhaps...

"Perhaps what?"

Arthur screamed, waking the child on his chest. The brit clutched the baby and pulled him to his chest, scooting back against the headboard. The room was dim, but Arthur could make out that man in front of him a stranger to the castle. The figure was lean, the hair on his head a wild mop of red curls. Nose slightly pointed, face dusted with freckles, gigantic eyebrows... Was he who he thought it was?

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted by a strong gush of wind coming from his left. He glanced over quickly, double taking as he saw two more men standing by the window. Did they come in through the window? One of them he recognized instantly, Dylan. That means the other two were exactly who he thought it was.

"Yes Arthur, it's us." The red head at the foot of his bed said as he began to slowly walk towards him. Geoffrey was wailing, and Arthur could feel a really intense bed feeling pooling in his gut. He had to get out of here. "You're not going anywhere." He snarled, his foreign accent deep. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't leave his lips. The redhead laughed. "Yes, I can read your mind. However, there seems to be a bit of a barrier." Arthur clutched the infant in his hands as he fumbled off of the bed, away from the three men,

Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck! What the fuck?! I thought he said a fortnight?! He kept his back pressed against the wall as he eyed the intruders on the opposite side of the room. Arthur's ears were ringing due to Geoffrey's crying, but his fear allowed him to ignore it, staring down his brothers. He stepped over to the right, where the door was, but he stopped when he saw a flash of silver from Seamus. Arthur squinted at him. It was a dagger.

"Uh..." Arthur started, voice wavering in fear. Oh my god, what's happening? "W-w-what d-do you want?" he said in a panicked voice, still eyeing the dagger. Are they going to kill him? "Why are you h-here?" he said as he bounced the infant, trying to calm him down. Right then it seemed that all three just noticed the presence of the child the blond was clutching. They eyed him curiously.

"Is that your child?" Dylan asked with a soft voice, approaching him slowly. Arthur screamed, very aware of the weapons of the other's person. "Settle down! Settle down Arthur! We are not here to hurt you!" At least that what the brit thought he heard. The child was still screaming, and the other man had a deep foreign accent, one he barely understood. Arthur couldn't fight the tears welling up in his eyes. Why did he take Geoffrey? He would have been safer with Davie.

"Davie?" The red head spoke again, a sinister grin on his face. "Is he the father?" Arthur flinched, willing himself not to answer with his thoughts. He shook his head wildly. Allister frowned. "Are you lying?" he growled as he took a single step closer, causing the brit to cry out, taking another step toward the door.

"What do you want!? Go away! I don't want to go with you!" he pleaded through his tears, hushing the baby in his hands. Arthur didn't want to go. He thought he had at least 2 weeks to prepare himself. He didn't want to go back and join their cult! He wanted to stay with Alfred forever! The red head snarled at him. Arthur paused, realizing what he had just thought.

"So it's true, you and the prince are mates." He said disbelievingly. "You want to continue being his little toy! Well, too bad! We aren't going to stand by and watch as you crossbreed with those savages." He growled, lunging at the brit, who sprinted for the door. Seamus, like a ghost, appeared out of nowhere to his left and swung his sword at the brit. The metal weapon only grazed the brit as he continued for his escape. The Englishman could hear them chase after him, but he pulled the door open and stepped through, dashing down the hallway, screaming.

"Alfred! ALFRED!" He screeched, the baby still wailing in his arms, ignoring the pain on his side. He pushed open the study to find a shocked prince and a confused Harold. Arthur didn't even wait for a question. "They're here!" He said simply, shoving the door closed. "My brothers are here; they're trying to kill us!" He ran towards the end of the study, the farthest from the door. He still had his little nook, the place he used for reading, and hid the baby and himself there.

The most he could do is stay out of the way. That's all he should be doing. Arthur felt his heart beat out of his chest when he heard the door slamming and people rushing in. He could hear the Harold yell in shock, and the prince unsheathe his sword. There was the sound of metal clashing, and it was as if the baby in his arms knew that this situation was dire, for it stop crying.

"Arthur!" He could hear his name being called, however it didn't belong to the American accent he grew so fond of. "Arthur, we are not going to hurt you!" the voice was getting louder, but the brit still heard swords clashing, so he could only imagine that the other blond just slipped through to go look for him. "Arthur come out! You and your son are safe." He said softly, he still thinks he and Geoffrey are related.

"Get away from there!" He heard Alfred grunt. His voice too was getting louder. He must have been rushing towards the brits. He heard more swords clash, and even more stomping feet. The ground began to shake. Reinforcements?! He heard as people flooded the room, the Harold, once again, yelled in shock as American soldiers entered the study. Arthur felt a wave of relief wash over him when he heard Davie call his name.

"Allister, through the window!" He heard Dylan yell as the voice got farther. He then heard the prince order for the windows to be blocked, but the sound of the windows breaking lead the Arthur to believe that the three men had already jumped.

"Get outside! To the courtyard! They couldn't make that drop without getting hurt!" Alfred ordered, and the people began to shuffle out. "Arthur!" He called out. The brit was still catching his breath, so he didn't reply right away. "Arthur?!" the prince asked again, worry dripping from his voice. He was rushing towards the back of the destroyed Solar, looking for his lover. "Arthur!? Jesus Christ fucking answer me!? Arthur?!" he cried out, distressed.

"Here" he finally called from in his nook, not moving to leave it. "I'm in here."

Alfred and Davie both crawled into the nook, the latter taking the infant into his arms, and the prince burying himself in the brit's scent. They smelled each other desperately before connecting their lips. The brit was shaking wildly, unsure of what was going to happen. Will he be safe with Alfred anymore? Is he going to be okay?

Alfred was growling uncontrollably, shaking with rage as he scented the other. Arthur panted, out of breath. He heard Alfred mumble something, but he ignored it, focusing on the mysterious ache on his side. Was it because he ran here? It happens to people often, Arthur knew that, but he ran a very short distance, a very long time ago, why was he still panting.

"Arthur! Don't move. Stay very still." Arthur looked at the prince in confusion. His eyes were wet, his lids pink, and his expression was mortified. What was wrong? Arthur was about to ask what was wrong, but the prince hushed him, calling out to Davie, who had left the nook to give the baby off to a maid. "Davie!" His voice was much shriller than before, in fact, Arthur had never heard the American sound so afraid.

The other knight came into the nook before looking around curiously. He spotted the brit and took in his appearance, before he gasped. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he took a few tentative steps backward. "I'll get the surgery ready." He said hastily, running off. Surgery? Arthur looked down at himself in panic, eyes widening as he finally caught wind of what they were reacting to.

He was bleeding.

The entire left side of his shirt was soaked in blood, the warm liquid dripping down to his black pants. He looked back up at the prince who looked as if he was about ready to have a heart attack. His eyes were alight with the fire of his hatred. Arthur looked back down, and then up at the American, going between the two as he tried to process what was going on. Based on the amount of blood he lost, the cut must have been deep, which was probably why Davie ran off to get the surgery ready.

Arthur, since the beginning of his stay here at the fortress, had seen only 7 knights get wounds like this. Only one of them had made it.

He looked back up at the prince, eyes stinging with tears. He spoke quietly, voice cracking. "Am...A-am I going to-"

Before he could even finish the thought the prince hushed him with a quick kiss. "No, no, no, Arthur listen to me you are not going to die!" He was practically yelling, but Arthur didn't mind, he knew that the prince was afraid for him. The brit let his tears fall, thinking back as to when he might have acquired this wound. He allowed the prince to help him up, hissing as he did so. The wound was no longer numbed by the adrenaline. As they walked towards the study door, the brit could feel the wound splitting even further. His vision became spotty, and he began to cough roughly, wiping the blood from his lips. Oh God, he was coughing up blood. The coughing got so bad that he cried out pathetically, almost collapsing. Thankfully the prince was there, scooping him up and delivering him the rest of the way.

He was rushed to the infirmary, where the table had been set up. Davie wore a smock and his hands were gloved, his eyes alight with concern. Half a dozen nurses were buzzing about the room, ready to, and anxious to, get the surgery started. Arthur was set on the table by the American, who was then rushed out of the room by Davie. Arthur whimpered. Was he going to die!? Why did he kick Alfred out?! Arthur was about to move when he saw Davie approach him with a rag.

"Arthur, I promise I will do my best to save your life." He said simply, voice sad. Arthur was about to question him when the dark haired fellow placed the rag over his mouth and nose, pressing it down. Arthur screamed in shock, eyes blown out. The rag burned his nostrils as he was forced to lay back. Arthur watched in horror as his whole world turned black, wondering if he'll ever see it again


	15. Chapter 15

Alfred left the room willingly, ignoring the worried faces of his maids, who had, after hearing the commotion, came out to see what was up. He didn't care that they were watching, he let his tears fall freely. Arthur was dying, Alfred was almost certain that there was nothing Davie could do to help. Alfred clenched his jaw, slamming his head against the stone gray wall. He had committed the worst thing an alpha could do.

He had failed to protect his mate.

He slid to the floor, burying his head in his knees. He began to sob heavily, his chest constricting as he felt the bond between he and Arthur fade. The bond was a small pressure, a pleasant sensation that was a constant reminder that the two, even though they weren't mated, were still mates. It was an emotional bond that often came after the physical one, but for some reason, it happened the other way around first. He had fallen in love with Arthur, but know he could feel the other fading.

As the minutes turned to hours, the prince tugged at his hair in despair as the bond grew weaker. He had stopped crying hours ago, staring at the ground blankly as guards told him their reports, which Alfred hardly listened to. They failed, that's all that mattered. Margaret had, about 3 hours ago, come to comfort him, but he just ignored her. She then opted to sit beside him for the remainder of the day.

It was now about 6 in the afternoon, and Margaret had gotten up and left for the bathroom. He just sat there, contemplating how his life would be like once the bond broke. When Arthur died. Alfred shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent more tears from falling. He sniffled, looking up when he heard the door creek open. It was Davie at the doorway, the white smock he wore was stained red and his eyes sad. The walked slowly towards the prince before dropping to the floor, sitting down beside him. Alfred looked at him desperately, begging with his eyes.

Please say Arthur's alright! Please let him be okay!

"Alfred…" Davie said softly. He looked at the prince with a hesitant expression, before clearing his voice. "Alfred, my lord…" Alfred winced. Davie never spoke to him like that unless he had terrible news. Alfred's eyes began to water again, looking at Davie with uncertain but knowing eyes. The other one sighed heavily. "Alfred, Arthur… he didn't… he isn't…" He sighed heavily again, blinking wildly to stop his own tears. "He hasn't woken up yet, but… the wound was very deep. I don't think he'll make it." He finally said, patting the other on his back. Alfred stared at him in disappointment, but he was expecting it, the bond in the back of his head almost completely gone. But even then, Alfred couldn't help his denial.

"Are you sure you can't do anything else, Davie?" He asked weakly, letting his tears fall once more. Davie closed his eyes, trying to mask his pain. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but he closed it, opting to shake his head.

"I'm sorry."

Alfred nodded his head, rubbing his eyes roughly. "Can I see him?" He asked with a hoarse voice, standing up, ignoring how his legs shook. They had fallen asleep during the many hours. Davie cleared his throat, giving him the okay. He entered the room hesitantly, not sure about what he was going to see. He expected to a bloody mess, a face contorted into agony, pale gray skin, and for some reason, black veins. What he did see, however, was not what he was expecting.

Arthur was lying down on the surgical table, chest hardly moving. His shirt was cut off, and the prince finally got a good look at his mate's fatal wound. Davie had sewn it up, but Alfred could tell that the wound would have been at least inch wide, and a least a foot long. It stretched from his ribs to his hips and the red tissue looked inflamed. Apart from that, the brit looked peaceful, his face nowhere near as pained as he would have thought. Rather, the brit looked as he always had when he had slept, at peace and content. His porcelain skin was now a snow white, an unnatural pale that reminded the prince that Arthur wasn't sleeping, that his brit wasn't going to wake up like he always would.

Alfred slid to his knees again and cried, the sight was much more than he could handle. Davie crouched down beside him and pulled him into an embrace, and Alfred let him. The prince wouldn't normally-no- the prince would never let his emotions get the better of him in front of his subordinates, but right now, more than any, he needed a friend. After what felt like hours, the American stopped his crying and stood up, grabbing the closest chair and pulling it to the brit's bedside. He wasn't going to leave his mate like this. Arthur was, if he was still mentally conscious in his head, watching the whole ordeal, probably scared, and he too would want comfort. He was going to stay by Arthur's side to the very end, no matter how long or short.

Davie patted him on the back and left him alone. Alfred stared at his omega, hardly noticing the other's absence. He gently wrapped their hands together, frowning at how cold the other was. He looked around the room and found one of Davie's shawls, which he laid over the brit like a blanket. He sat down again, before getting up, leaning over so he could give his mate one final kiss, the bond at the back of his head practically gone, the rise and fall of the others chest even weaker. The brit was suffering a slow painful death, and he couldn't do anything to ease the pain.

 _You could just end it all._

Alfred glanced around the room to make sure he was alone, before speaking to his conscious. "How? ...Wait, do you mean…" The prince trailed off, looking at his mate once again. He shook his wildly, his tears falling once more. He can't… he doesn't want to…

 _It'll end his pain, Alfred. You couldn't protect him the first time… Don't fail him twice_.

Alfred stared down in horror at the brit before him, the black veins of death spreading throughout his body. They formed deltas around his temples, and his hands, the once dainty, soft, and warm hands were now cold and dry. Arthur didn't look to be in any pain, but what if he was? The brit wouldn't survive the night, and the drugs he was given were bound to be wearing away soon. Maybe he should make the passing easier, for Arthur's sake.

Alfred stared at the brit for a few moments before pulling out his sword, sighing deeply. This was out of the love he had for Arthur. He was doing this for Arthur. He mentally chanted this as he positioned the sword to point down towards the brit's forehead. Alfred had done this many times before. He would drive the sword through his skull, killing him instantly. The body would twitch, but there would be no pain, Arthur would be on his way to heaven. Away from all of the horrors of the world, with his family.

That's all he ever wanted anyway. Alfred said a soft prayer, before returning to the task at hand. "I love you, Arthur Kirkland." And with that, he drove the sword down.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Alfred didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up on his bed, in the dark, with a horrible headache. He rolled over to his side, only to feel something leaning against his right bicep. Alfred turned his head, and the first thing that hit him was the smell. The smell of moss on a rainy day, the soft fragrance of lavender, and the smell of freshly trimmed grass.

He knew that smell.

The prince gently removed himself from underneath his companion before rolling off the bed, bumping into the nightstand. He felt for a match and when he found it, he lit the candle. He turned his head to look back at his bed, and to his complete shock, Arthur, the one he couldn't remember killing, was laying on his bed, snoring softly. Alfred's mouth hung open as he crawled on top of the bed, eyeing the sleeping brit. The rise and fall of his chest was strong, and the closer he got, the more he could see the brit's face.

It was still deathly pale, but nowhere near as bad as it could be, and the tip of his nose had a small little red line, a cut. The black veins were still there, but they were much smaller now, the hands of death receding. Alfred tugged off the blanket that was covering the brit, and he could see that the Englishman was sporting bandages wrapped around his torso. His pants were changed, now a black pair of boxers. Alfred closed his eyes, focusing on everything but nothing at the same time.

He could feel it.

The bond, the bond that he felt disappearing had returned, stronger than when he last felt it. He couldn't help the happy cry of relief that escaped, or the way the tears were dripping from his eyes to the other's chest. He thought he was going to lose him. He thought he had already lost him.

He wanted to wake the other, hug him and kiss him wildly, but he had a feeling that it would somehow reverse the miracle that had just been performed on his mate. He got off of the bed, and headed towards the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, gasping in mild confusion when he noticed the black veins along his face. He glanced down at his hands and they too, were covered in black veins. "What's going on?" He asked quietly. He didn't expect an answer, yet alone a cry.

"AHH! AHH! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!P PLEASE!" Alfred rushed out of the bathroom, only to find the brit thrashing in his sleep, crying out as he rolled to and fro. The American jumped into action, pinning the other gently by the arms, allowing the legs to continue kicking. The brit was now sobbing, fighting back his imaginary attacker, still very much asleep.

"Arthur." The American whispered as he leaned down, towards the other's ear. "Arthur, it's me, Alfred. Don't be afraid." The brit was still crying, not paying any head to the other's words. Even then, the American didn't care, he continued to speak. "Arthur, it's okay. I don't know where you think you are, but I can tell you where you really are. You're with me, back in our room, and I want you to feel safe again. Your brothers will never hurt you again, and even though I failed you this time, it won't happen again, I swear. I will find your brothers and make them pay for what they've done to you. But on a lighter note, I thought I would never see you again. You looked like you were going to die, and basically, I was willing to kill you in order to prevent you from suffering any longer than you have. I don't know how we got here, or what day it is, but I have a feeling you do, so when you finally here me, I want you to answer me. Okay?"

"Okay" said a meek voice. Arthur had woken up, grasping on to the other's words like his life depended on it. "And I thought I would never see you again either." He added softly, his eyes glistening. Alfred looked down in worry.

"What's wrong, Arthur? What happened?" The brit looked at him with guilty eyes, shaking his head.

"I can't tell you… to be honest, I don't know much myself." The brit confessed. "Once I was knocked out, I woke up back at that barn and I read a book about suits and cards and whatever. Then the doors busted open and it was Seamus, my brother, he came to apologize for wounding me with his sword. He said he would let me wake up, and that I should soon, or else. I did, and I saw you… you were going to stab me. I don't know how I did it, but I grabbed your hand and stopped you as best I could, though, I remember my nose bleeding. You passed out, then Davie came in, called in guards to take you to your room. That was, I think, 4 days ago, you've been a coma ever since, and the wound on my side is getting better. It doesn't really hurt much, Davie said I was healing very well and very fast. Everyone's worried about you, and I'm not allowed to leave this room without Davie in fear of an attack. Even though my brothers entered through my window on the day of the attack."

Alfred processed what he had heard lazily as he kissed his omega. Alfred was too excited to think about any of those things, all he wanted was Arthur, who was clearly suffering from nightmares and delusions while he was drugged. "I don't care about that right now. I missed you and I love you so much, and I'm sorry for trying to mercy kill you." He said breathlessly, burying his nose in the other's neck to smell the omega's scent much better.

"I know, I forgive you…but" he started, which caused the American to pull back. Was he upset about it? The brit smirked as he chuckled. "I would prefer if you let me die of natural causes, and not take it upon yourself. I know, deep down, you thought it was the right thing to do, but I just wanted to let you know that I am tougher than you think." He kissed the man hovering above him once more, just a peck, he didn't want to exhaust himself.

Alfred opened his mouth, about to question the brit on the nightmare he appeared to be having only a few minutes ago, but the brit interrupted his thought with a yawn, silencing his worries. He'll always have tomorrow to ask him. He blew out the candle and gently cuddled with the brit, spooning him and absorbing the other into his person. Arthur pressed up against him, sighing happily as he slowly drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Arthur watched the American sleep, albeit creepily. However, he couldn't help but stare at the fading black veins around his eyes, on the edges of his face. The curse the brit had accidentally inflicted upon Alfred was wearing off, much to Arthur's relief. He was so worried that the other's condition would get worse he had lost plenty of hours of sleep. Like now, for example.

Oh, what curse you ask?

Well, while Arthur was in his coma, he awoke in a barn, the barn, and had a surprisingly kind discussion with Seamus, his brother. The one who stabbed him. The Englishman frowned at the memory, still ticked, even after being apologized to. He thought he was going to die, he felt his own life essence leave his body slowly. However, what Seamus had told him did validate what happened to him. Somewhat.

 **Flashback**

Arthur woke up with a start, in a pile of hay, in a wooden, splintered stall, of a wooden splintered barn. He sat up and winced, grabbing at his side, hissing again and removing his hand. He looked down and his shirt was a bloodied mess. Arthur threw his head back down on the pile of hay, groaning out in pain. Why was he back here? Can't he spend his final moments in peace? The brit remained that way until he heard shuffling in one of the other stalls.

The brit shot his head up.

"Hello!" He called, wincing at how dry and hoarse his voice sounded. The shuffling stopped. "H-hey, I'm in this stall. I'm wounded and I-I think I need help." The brit pleaded, trying to convey his desperation as best he could. He could feel himself getting dizzier by the minute and he didn't want to find out whether or not it was possible to die in a dream and die in real life. The shuffling quickly became footsteps, steps that were heading his way. Arthur only had a split second to question what he had just done.

What if it was a madman? An evil witch? A criminal? He felt nervous, but in his state, he knew better than to ignore help. Whoever it is, can't be worse than dying. The stall door wretched open and revealed a tall man with shaggy blond hair, emerald green eyes, a brown shirt, and black trousers.

"You think?" Said Seamus as he invited himself him. Arthur hesitated a bit before growling at him angrily.

"Shut up you arse! Look what you've done! I just wanted to stay with Alfred and you kill me?!" He spat, voice dripping with rage and self pity. Seamus shrugs as he takes a seat on the pile of hay Arthur's laying on. "Get off of my pile." He huffs, reaching to push the other away but is too weak to actually do it. Seamus swats his hands away before speaking.

"Sorry Laddie!" The man chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. Arthur squinted at his accent, it was clearly foreign. "This was the only way I could chat with you privately, without your screaming son. You're not going to die. I'll fix you once I finish talking."

"Firstly, Geoffrey isn't my son, I was just babysitting for a friend. Secondly, how the hell are you going to fix me?!" Arthur was glaring at the other, and the other blond scoffed.

"Shut up and watch your mouth when you're speaking to me laddie! I don't know how it works in that fortress of yours, but it doesn't work here at home." He lectured, glaring back at the brit in challenge. Arthur didn't know what to say, should he snap at him? Seamus took his silence as an okay and he continued. "I just placed a little curse on you just in case we couldn't leave with you. It's meant to hurt, and yes, it's supposed to feel like your dying. The pain is very real. But, when I wake you up, all you have to do is grab the first thing you see, be it inanimate or a living thing, and half of the pain will be transferred to it. So it will be easier for you to recover."

Arthur frowned. "What do you want then? What couldn't you ask me in front of Allister and Dylan?" Seamus messed with his hair.

"Well, since Dylan told us about the night in the woods, I have been scaling the place, and I had seen you a couple of times, with other British people, or with the prince. Are you staying here against your will?" He asked, voice soft and sincere. Arthur relaxed his features. Seamus sounded genuinely worried for him. The brit shook his head.

"No..." He started before really thinking about the answer. "Well... I don't really care about where I am, I just want to with Alfred." He said, looking up at the barn's ceiling. "I don't particularly like the fortress, and I can't leave unless I'm accompanied anymore, so I guess I don't have a choice but be there as long as Alfred wants me to." He looked back at his brother. "Why did you guys come early?" Seamus smirked.

"We had a feeling that the mission was compromised when Elizabeta was late to delivering the letter. He gave us a map of the fortress weeks ago, it was easy to find you." He stated matter of factly.

"Whatever." The brit added playfully.

"Has the prince tried anything?" The older brother asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes at Arthur. It took the brit half a second to comprehend the question stuttering a bit as he said no. The older took the hesitation as a yes, and shot up out of his seat suddenly, face red and eyes angry. "I'm going to gut him open!" He bellowed, and Arthur swore his ears rang.

"No!" The younger pleaded. "I'm serious! He has been nothing but sweet and kind to me. We've only met about 2 months ago!" He explained to the still seething brother. Seamus turned to look at him angrily.

"Don't lie to me!" He yelled. "You didn't meet him two months ago! You two are in love, how could you be if you only met two months ago?" He implored, and Arthur hesitated to answer again.

"I... he was the only one to..." Arthur started, but trailed off, not sure if he was comfortable describing his feelings to a stranger.

"Well?" Seamus said as he plopped back down on the floor again.

"I... He..." Arthur groaned. "No one has ever made me feel as good and as special as Alfred has. He was the first person I have ever met to see the value in me and treat me with respect. He wants to protect me and he does his best to do so. He... he thinks I'm beautiful and he's sincere and he is overall the best man I have ever met. And the best part is that he loves me just as much as I love him." Arthur felt the blood rush to his cheeks and he instantly averted his eyes. Seamus stared at him wide eyed.

"You..." The older started, voiced trembling. "You really think he loves you?" He sounded exasperated, winded, as if something knocked the air out of his lungs. Then he started laughing at the top of his lungs, causing the other to frown. "To think it only takes a few compliments to have you fall in love. How emotionally depraved are you?! How lonely can someone be to really fall in love in two months!?" Arthur winced, but held his peace. It may have been two months, but it felt much longer than that, and he had no doubts in his mind that he was in love. However, Seamus kept on yapping.

"He doesn't love you, Arthur!" He chuckled out. "He is either keeping you for three reasons. 1, he find you physically appealing and has no better option. 2, He knows you're a Kirkland and can use you for some scheme against England. Or 3, he has a kink for helpless omegas and he just wants to fuck and throw you away. Trust me, he doesn't want anything to do with you." He said with an amused sigh. "He knows you're desperate for affection, and he's using it against you."

There was an awkward silence between the two, both holding their sides for different reasons. Arthur's eyes stung at the other's harsh words, but tried to brush them off. He doesn't know Alfred, if he did, he wouldn't think so lowly of him. The younger still stood silent though, afraid of another barrage of insults. "Anyway, is this conversation done? I'm not leaving Alfred, I don't care what you say." He spoke slowly, voice a little shaky. Seamus frowned.

"He has nothing to offer you. Come home with us, we're your family." He said softly, looking back at Arthur with bright eyes. The smaller scoffed. Now it was his turn to hurt Seamus.

"Family? What family? Peter was my only family and now he's dead. The two of us have been struggling, alone, for the better part of 10 years, homeless, beaten, spit on, taken advantage of. Where were you and your family then, huh? Where were you, because I remember praying every night for you guys to come and find us, for you to come and save Peter and I from the constant abuse in the tunnels. You have no idea how many times we went to sleep hungry for days in a row; how many times we had to steal, or fight, for food. You have no idea how difficult it is to be a young homeless omega in the streets of London. You haven't the slightest clue how many times I had to fight rapists off, or how often I couldn't because I was so hungry I could hardly see straight. You have no idea how it feels to be treated as if you are nothing, as if you don't matter at all!" He let the tears roll, not caring as it streaked his face.

"And you have the nerve to criticize me for falling in love with the only person who has treated me otherwise! Alfred has his flaws, but so do I, and he didn't hesitate to look past them. He respects my limits and he treats me right. He never speaks ill of or to me. He's perfect and he makes me feel safe. If I could mate him, I would, over and over and over! So if that makes me stupid, naïve, or pathetic so be it. But for the first time since the war has started I feel happy, and loved and I won't ever change that for the world. Especially for a trio of idiots who thinks breaking into my room through the window and stabbing me is a good way of showing how much they care." His face was pink and his eyes alight. Seamus had an unreadable expression, but he remained silent for a while.

A few minutes pass before the older speaks up again. "I still think you are making a horrible mistake." He said bluntly, reaching over and taking his younger brother's hand. Arthur didn't know how he felt about it, but he allowed the action, even squeezing the other's. "But... I will try to respect it for now. But the second I see any sign, any omen, pointing me to you, I am retrieving you myself and slicing the prince's throat." Arthur flinched. "I mean it." Seamus added, squeezing the other's hand for good measure. He leaned toward the brit, who closed his eyes, allowing the older to kiss his forehead. The Englishman forced all tension from his body, calming himself down. This stranger was his brother, whether he liked it or not.

"And what do you mean if you could mate, you would?" He asked quietly against the other's forehead. Arthur sighed before telling him about his infertility. "Huh? Oh, mom had that issue, didn't she? She had her heat late. Your's is probably coming soon." Arthur shook his head, not believing. "Well, a little magical research can help then. Don't give up hope, you still have a chance." Arthur nodded, never having thought about a magical solution to his problem.

"Okay." He said softly.

"You have to go." Seamus said suddenly, panicked. His eyes looked wild as he glanced around. "Something's about to happen to your body." He stared at Arthur one more time before chanting quietly beneath his breath.

A sudden chill zapped down his spine, pain shot through his body and he spasmed.

* * *

Arthur woke up and everything was in slow motion. Standing above him was a tear streaked American driving a sword into him. The brit's instinct kicked in, his hands grabbing the prince's and using all of his strength to hold them back. He couldn't stop the yell that escaped his lips as he saw the black veins of his arms shoot into his hands, transferring to the distraught knight above him.

Alfred screamed in pain and collapsed, sword sliding across the room. Arthur wanted to check on him, but his side was so sore, he didn't want to move it. So instead, he cried for help. "Davie!" He shouted.

"Guards! Guards! The prince is in danger!" He yelled as loud as he could. Footsteps, heavy footsteps. The door busted open as the guards ran in, Davie the first to do so. His eyes widening impossibly, hopping to Arthur's side.

"Arthur? You're awake, what's going on?" He stated. "You were dying a moment ago, how are you feeling now? Why are still alive? I'm not upset or whatever, just curious, you had us worried sick." He said as he looked down at Alfred frowning. He began to talk to the other guards. "Take him to his chambers, i will be there very soon." He ordered, and the guards picked the American up and took him away.

"I feel like I'm dying." He lied, the pain wasn't anywhere near as painful as it was earlier, but that was only because he had given it to Alfred. Accidentally, of course. "As for what's going on, I woke up and Alfred on lying on the ground." He lied again. Davie looked puzzled, staring at the brit with an uncomfortable intensity as he tried to make sense of the situation. Perhaps the knight didn't realize he was staring at the brit as if he was some artifact, but Arthur cleared his throat in an attempt to alert the other he was doing so. Davie blinked, clearing his throat.

"Do you remember how you came across the wound?" He asked, picking up a clipboard. Arthur told him. "Do you remember if you felt any immediate pain?" Arthur told him. "While unconscious, do you recall any lucid dreams or hallucinations?" Arthur hesitated, about to mention his brother's name.

"No, I don't think so." He lied, smiling softly. Davie nodded, though his eyes were narrow. He went over to the nurse's desk and picked up a roll of bandages and some linen rags. He placed the linen rag on the stitched wound and applied a slight pressure. Arthur winced, Davie stopping to make sure he was okay.

"Just hold this here." He ordered as the brit held the cloth in place. Davie gripped him by his shoulders and forced him into a sitting position, which the brit scolded him about angrily. The knight wrapped him up with the bandages, before clamping the cloth down to keep it from unraveling. He sat down beside the brit quietly, studying him again. Arthur scowled at him, causing the American to laugh. "You look adorable, but at the same time really creepy. It's a good look though, the black veins really bring out the hatred in your eyes." That had Arthur laughing too, and the two chuckled there for a moment.

"Am I free to leave? Or do I have to stay for some test?" Arthur asked as he stared longingly at the door. He had a sudden urge to be with his mate, but he had a feeling he would be barred from him for some time. Davie sighed,running his hands through his hair.

"We'll need you to spend the night here, where the maids and I will watch over you. But if all goes well, you be back in your chambers in a week or two-"

"WEEK OR TWO?!" Why did he need to be there for a week, the pain didn't feel that bad! It was now Davie who was scowling.

"Don't be an idiot. That wound is much deeper than it looks, and it's a miracle you're even alive. We need to watch over you just in case you fall into a coma, or if you feel intense pains, or if you get a fever. You're only halfway through the tunnel, you need to be watched to make sure you don't die of an infection." He scolded harshly, causing the brit to shrink back. Davie sighed. "Ughh, I'm sorry... Just... we're worried." He said finally, rubbing his temples. "I had to tell Alfred that you were going to die earlier, and now you're okay, but he doesn't know that, and now he's in unconscious because he probably did something stupid to himself, like drink something off of my desk or hit himself, I... I'm just stressed." Arthur smiled softly, before putting a hand on his good hip.

"Alfred's going to be fine, trust me. But as for me, I have a 100% survival rate, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine. I don't think I need to stay, but I will if it would calm you down." Davie smirked at his declaration, nodding appreciatively. He stood up a bit later, excusing himself so he could check on Alfred.

 **Flashback end**

That was almost a week ago, and he could still remember Davie's shock when he went to check on the wound the next day and it was clotting. The brit was healing much faster than he had ever seen before, at least that's what Davie said. The next day Arthur's wound was at least halfway through the healing process, it didn't even hurt unless you applied pressure on it. He could walk unhindered and could laugh without any pains. By the third day Davie gave him the permission to go to his chambers, not before taking a strand of his hair, a sample of his saliva, and a spec of blood to run some tests on. Arthur was weirded out, but he didn't mind, all he cared about was going back to his room.

When he had gotten there, a nurse had told him that Alfred hadn't woken up once, but that his vitals were getting better each day and that he should be up and running in no time. She gave the brit instructions as for how to care for him while she was gone, and she left, waving them goodbye. Every 1 hour or so he would soak a rag in warm water and place it on the American's forehead. Arthur would blush whenever Alfred whispered his name throughout the evening, and he would read books to pass the time, sometimes reading them out loud for the prince to hear.

Arthur would sleep on his good side while cuddling the prince, and it was becoming a routine until Alfred woke him that one night he had had a nightmare, one he could hardly remember now, and the two embraced. Arthur swore the other had never looked so happy to see him. Since then, the American has woken rather late in the day with a painful headache and a nauseous stomach. He took a lot of naps though, which gave Arthur an opportunity to stare at the prince's progress, like how he was doing now.


	16. Chapter 16

**Smutty themes**

Arthur frowned as Davie took another sample of his hair. Alfred was currently resting his head on the brit's lap, who was sitting up with his back against the headboard. Arthur had a book in one hand, and was using the other to caress the prince's face. The blonde American was currently semiconscious, looking up at the ceiling with hooded, hazy eyes. Arthur was terribly worried about his mate, but Davie assured him that the other was getting better.

"How's it going with Alfie?" Davie asked casually as he dropped the hair strand in a clear jar. Arthur scowled at him, before shrugging.

"Don't act so casual while putting my hair in a jar." He rolled his eyes. "And as for Alfred... He's awake and well. He's just a little tired right now so he's just out of it a bit. He'll be back to normal in an hour or so." He said calmly, and he was fairly certain, seeing that for the last 3 days, the American would be more or less silent for a little bit, then back to his energetic self. This spell shouldn't last too long.

"Oh, okay." Davie said slowly, placing the jar on the nightstand. He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Alfred's forehead, feeling his temperature. "He has a normal temperature." He moved his head to the chest of the other, listening to his heartbeat. "His breathing is still normal... I think you're right, he is gonna be fine." Davie said with a soft voice as he patted the prince on the shoulder.

"I'm right here, why are you guys talking like I'm on my death bed?" The American deadpanned as he rolled over to his side, burying his head into the brit's stomach, breathing in deeply. Arthur smiled warmly.

"We just said you were going to be okay, how is that talking as if you're on your deathbed? Idiot." He chuckled, twirling the other's unruly hair in his hand. Alfred hummed, annoyed, but Arthur kept twirling, in fact, twirling harder, pulling on the other's head as he did so. The prince hummed louder, but Arthur persisted, and after about a minute the American had had enough, pulling away.

"Arthur stop!" He whined, eyes blown out and lips pouty. Arthur took the chance to take in his appearance. The prince was wearing no shirt, so his broad chest and toned abs were completely visible. He wore black boxers, the tight ones Arthur loved so much, as Arthur noted how there was a trail of hair from the waistband to the belly button. Alfred's hair was in a wild state, his eyes no longer surrounded by black veins. He had been too tired to do too much, so he hadn't shaved in at least 3 days, so there was a slight shadow around his jaw. Arthur couldn't stop himself from purring.

"Woah! WOAH! WOAH! I'm still in here, don't purr! Eww Arthur, have some self control!" Davie criticized as he stood up, hands over his ears. Arthur laughed darkly, which the other ignored as he evaluated Alfred's conditions. After about 5 minutes of boring doctor stuff, the brit zoned out, staring off into space. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular, he was just drifting is all.

However his attention was forced back into reality when he had heard a loud thump. He blinked wildly, looking around until he had found the cause of said noise. Alfred and Davie were wrestling again and Arthur sighed heavily. Those idiots. Arthur pulled himself out of bed and walked gingerly to the bathroom, careful to avoid the fight. He closed the door behind him went to the sink, looking up at the mirror, smiling at his complexion. His hair had grown quite a bit, it no longer resting by his ears, but back at his shoulders. However, it was nowhere near as wild as it used to be. His locks were silky thanks to his hair regime, and the strands were a bright gold. His green eyes were bright, much brighter than it has ever been, which worried the brit a bit. Was it because of the curse? Is this caused by magic?

He looked down at his body. He frowned, agitated. The weight he was gaining was going down to his thighs, hips and butt, but not to his arms and chest. He figured if he got fatter in those area, it would be easier to convert that fat into muscle, making him look more manly. However, the more he gained weight, the more womanly he looked. His face was no longer angular, it looked so much softer now. Maggie would tease him about how he was half woman, but now he was kind of believing it.

Even his attire! He wore nightgowns to bed, and currently he had on a deep solid purple nightgown that stopped just past his thigh. Underneath he had skimpy lavender panities made of lace. He put them on willingly, it had become a habit for him to dress to impress his mate, who hardly notices. The panties didn't feel weird. He hardly grew any body hair, so there was no friction or anything like that. He looked back up to the mirror and wondered silently to himself how people knew he was a guy. Was it because of his lack of breast, or was it due to the sound of his voice? Because at first glance there is no obvious indicator.

Arthur was about to run some water over his hands when he heard nothing. Silence. He groaned. What did they do now? He stormed out of the bathroom, and gasped at what he saw. All of their clothes were on the floor, in particular, his favorite dress. The green dress with the intricate design. The two idiots were no longer fighting, they were sitting by each other, panting, eyes closed. Arthur could feel the heat rise to his face as he approached the dress. He bent down, picking it up and flapping it out. The brit stopped when he noticed some thread. He sat on the side of the bed as he shifted through the dress, trying to find the fly aways. However, what he found made his blood boil.

"Alfred! WHAT THE FUCK! You idiots ripped my dress!" He shot up off of the bed, placing his hands on his hip. Davie had managed to slink out of the room while the brit was shifting through the dress, leaving the prince to deal with the damages alone. Alfred winced.

"Sorry, I'll get you another-"

"I don't want another one! This one was my favorite!" Arthur yelled again. The prince sighed, getting up off of the floor and approaching the fuming brit slowly. He tried to touch the Englishman, who in turn swatted his hand away angrily. "Don't touch me! You act comatose all day but the second you and Davie get into it, you're like a fucking bear. How the fuck did all of my clothes get on the ground? You two are so immature and idiotic and j-just so... so"

"Arthur relax!" Alfred said as he forced the other into an embrace. Arthur tried to push away but the other was stronger, forcing the smaller brit to breath in his scent. The englishman felt better instantly, but he was still very angry. They stayed like that for a few moments, but the brit slowly pushed away from the other gently, dress still in his hand. He huffed.

"I don't want another dress." He deadpanned. He shoved the green dress into the bigger one's chest, who took it in shock. "Get someone to fix it." Arthur sauntered back to his spot on the bed and picked up his book again, picking up where he left off. Alfred climbed in too, snuggling up against the other, who swatted him away. The prince tried once more, and the englishman swatted him again. The American groaned.

"I said I was sorry, Artie!" He whined, looking up at the brit with annoyed eyes. The brit stopped reading and looked at the prince with bored eyes.

"I didn't say I forgave you."

"Arthur, relax! It's just a dress, not even a good one at that! You hardly wear dresses, you usually wear my clothes anyway. I don't get mad when you ruin them, so where do you get off getting all fussy!?" He looked angry now, and annoyed. He was no longer leaning on the other, in fact he was increasing the distance between them. Arthur rolled his eyes and scoffed, angrier than he was initially. He's angry?! He's the one making a mess out of everything!

"First of all!" He looked angry. Arthur breathed out, calming himself before he said something he'd regret. "That's different! None of the clothes you get me fit well; they're too tight. Your clothes are too big for me, but at least they make me feel comfortable. I feel like a streetwalker in half of the clothes in my closet- well- on the floor now! And when I wear it, perhaps a little gravy gets on it, but I never leave any holes! Especially one sizable enough for me to fit my head."

"I apologized for that already!" Alfred growled. "There are probably hundreds of dresses like that, you don't need to get an attitude because we put a hole in it. It was an accident, I was just messing around and it just sort of happened!" Alfred tried to explain. Arthur scoffed again.

"Oh, and another thing! You and your best mate Davie may think it's normal to wrestle wherever you bloody are, but it's not just the two of you anymore! I'm here now! Stop suddenly throwing yourselves into a wrestling match it's annoying and childish! I mean, just look at what you've done!" He motioned for the other to look around the room. The place was a mess, clothes everywhere, and some books littered the ground. "You're almost 20 bloody years old, and you're telling me you had no idea what was going on?! You and Davie are just toxic when together and its pisssing me off!"

Alfred frowned at the other, but he didn't say anything. Buy the way his eyes dilated and flickered, he appeared to be in deep thought. It was a good minute and a half when the door creaked open and a maid walked in, wordlessly cleaning up the room. When she was done and gone, the prince was still silently, looking at the brit up and down.

"Okay." He said finally with a sigh, relaxing against the headboard.

"Okay what?" Arthur asked softly, crawling over to the other. The American noticed and grabbed him the hips, pulling him on top of him. Arthur gasped but was otherwise silent as their foreheads touched.

"I'm sorry, I'll be more careful, I promise." They shared a sweet kiss, but Arthur was still very skeptical.

"Sure you will," He said as he pulled away gently, hovering his lips over the other's. "I forgive you." He mumbled as he rested his forehead against the other's again. He couldn't help his smile when the American underneath him beamed at him. "It wasn't worth fighting over, I'm sorry love." He whispered. Alfred nodded and went in for another kiss, which was returned. The kiss started out soft but soon turned into a battle for dominance. Usually Arthur would lose within seconds, however since he was a bit sluggish, Arthur had more of a fighting chance.

After a few moments they both pulled away, panting, Alfred's cheeks flushed, eyes exhausted. Oh, he must be tired. Arthur began to change their current position to one more comfortable for the tired knight when said American grinded his hips up against the brit, who gasped in shock. Before the brit could react further, the prince smashed their lips together again, continuing the grinding motion. Arthur could feel his blood rush to his cheeks, a whole gamut of emotions running through his mind.

This had never happened before.

His shock was soon replaced by instinct, and he was soon grinding in time with the other. He moaned into the kiss, cheeks getting redder. However, that wasn't the only place blood was rushing into. He could feel his own member get harder as time passed on, and the American was almost fully erect. The prince pulled away and stopped grinding. "Arthur..." he panted as he moaned out. The moan sounded almost like a wild animal, a desperate animal in heat. The sound made the brit grind harder and faster. The prince moaned out again, throwing his head back against the headboard. "I want you closer…" He trailed off as he closed his eyes, gripping the other's hip as he grinded up again.

"Nngh… ah-a-alfred…" Arthur moaned as he felt his member harden up completely. The sensation was new to him, he was never pleasured before, and he was nervous. He rested his head on the other's shoulder and closed his eyes, focusing on the waves of pleasure going through him. "Ah-alfie… I… yea… harder alfie…" he groaned out, slamming his hips against the others. Alfred hummed, pausing his administrations for a moment. The brit was more than confused, but he kept his hips still. He was a panting mess and his underwear felt damp against his skin. He was gently laid on his back, the American kneeling above him with lustful eyes.

"I don't think you'll give me permission to enter the cave, will you?" He asked in rough voice, bending down to nibble on the brit's ear. Arthur sucked in his breath and wrapped his arms around his mate, whimpering. The prince ran his hands on the other's thighs and caressed them gently, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Arthur moaned. "Oh, you like that?" He purred, licking his way down to his neck. He latched down on the brit's jugular and began to suck. Arthur moaned out again, throwing his head back. He hardly noticed when the other's hands began travelling up his dress, drawing circles on his sides. Those rough hands soon jumped to his perky nipples and began to squeeze and pinch them, turning them lovingly.

The englishman arched his back and let out a strangled moan, thrusting his hips into the air. He used his hands to pull the American's face back up and smashed their lips together in a kiss, letting out more moans as the prince's tongue mapped his mouth. Alfred removed his hands and pulled up the nightgown by the hem, high enough reveal Arthur's pink swollen nipples. Alfred moaned as he broke the kiss and attached his greedy lips to one of the pink buds. He swirled his tongue around it and bit down softly, ignoring the other's whimpers and moans.

Arthur panted and whimpered prayers. His cheeks were streaked with tears and his eyes stung. He couldn't handle all of this stimulation. His cock was leaking and he was feeling lightheaded. The more he moaned, the harder he thrusted. The harder he thrusted, the harder the other bit his sore nubs, and the harder he moaned. It was a vicious cycle. All he wanted was to cum, but he wanted the other to make him do it. "Alfred, please…" He said desperately, squeezing the other's biceps. He wrapped his legs around the other and pulled him in. "Make me finish." He whispered.

Alfred quit nibbling and returned his lips to the other's ear. "How do you want to finish? Do you want my hand or my sword?" He asked with a seductive purr. Arthur almost came right there. "Ah! wh-ah-ah! Ah- ah!" He couldn't stop his moans, the other already grinding up against him harshly. He threw his head back and allowed the other dominance over his body. The American recognized the gesture and moved his hands to the brit's waist, fingering the waistband of his panties. He tugged it down and then tugged his own constricting piece of underwear down, revealing his very large member. The sight brought Arthur down to his senses a little bit. "Wait! Wait, please don't. I-I'm s-sorry, I'm n-not quit-t-te ready for your s-sword yet." His teeth couldn't stop chattering, the air touching his member made him shake.

Alfred blinked a few times before registering what he was saying. "Oh, okay." He said reassuringly. He pressed his cock against Arthur and began to thrust against. Lightning shot through the brit's body, forcing his eyes to roll to the back of his head. It felt so much better without clothes on. The American bent down to nibble on his ears, using his hands it twist his sore pink nubs. Arthur whimpered and moaned, dragging his fingernails across the other's chest.

"Ah… Nngh..ng..ngha ah ah hah ah ah….Ngh" The noises wouldn't stop coming from his mouth, his cock practically weeping, the fluids reducing the friction. The pressure in his lower abdomen was making his way down, he was so close. Alfred was too, he could tell, the larger started moving faster and more frantic. The prince groaned in his ear. "Artie, baby, I can't hold it much longer. I want to finish together, okay?" He kissed Arthur's beat red forehead and began grinding and thrusting, causing the brit to let out a half moan half scream as he finished, spasming as a he saw a white flash. It took a few minutes for the American to find his orgasm, but when he had, streams of white covered the brit's already soiled chest.

Alfred smiles lazily as he kisses the brit, who is about to pass out. Before either has a chance to move and fix themselves, the door flies open and an unexpected guest walks in.

* * *

It all happened so fast. One minute he was being kissed by Alfred, pressed up against his sweaty body, and the next he had a thick blanket thrown over him, and he could hear Alfred yelling at someone. Someone had entered without knocking, but Arthur didn't get a chance to see who it was.

"I said, what the fuck do you want?! Why are you here?!" The American sounded furious. He wanted to cuddle, and the intruder interrupted them from doing so. "Francis, I won't ask again!" Francis? Arthur rolled his eyes. Ugh. The Frenchman. Suddenly there was a burst of laughter, and gasping from the French King.

"Desole, mon amie. Forgive me." He said in between his laughter. Arthur could hear Alfred growl in annoyance, so he figured he should interject.

"Your highness, we apologize for the unholy sight before you, but would you do us a favor and excuse yourself for but a moment. I would prefer to be cleaned up before the presence of one as significant as yours." He said it half heartedly through the blanket, loud enough to eclipse the prince's growling and the king's laughter. Francis sobered up and cleared his throat.

"Oh, joli garcon, no need to be shy. We frenchmen are taught to appreciate nature and the beauty of intimacy at a very young age. Trust me, this is nothing I have not seen before." He purred, and Arthur blushed in discomfort. The brit kept the blanket wrapped around his body, but pulled it down to reveal his face. The American was still hovering over him, each hand positioned on either side of the brit's head. The American, the brit noticed, was still bare, everything was hanging out. When Arthur looked up to reach the American's eyes, the prince was already looking at him with possessive, angry eyes. The brit knew that look; Alfred was a minute away from losing his shit.

"Alfred, Alfred, focus!" The brit hissed in a whisper. The American hummed. "Tell him to get out! I'm naked, what if he sees me naked?" He whispered in his ears. The hum turned into an angry growl, and the brit internally smirked. "When I'm in this state..." He whispered as he pulled away, looking at the American's red face. "It's only for your eyes to see, not his. If you don't get him to leave, I'm not going to let you do this again." He watched as the prince's face turned into something quite panicked. The American cleared his throat. Turning to face the king who had made himself comfortable on one of the couches.

"Francis" The knight said in a deep, commanding voice. It reminded the brit of the tone he had used when they had first met, how demanding the wounded knight was after he had collapsed by that tree. It sent chills down the brit's spine. Arthur turned to look at the French king, who was currently sending Alfred an amused look. "I don't know what you want" he continued,"but get out. I will consider giving audience to whatever you came here to ask for, but if you continue to make my mate uncomfortable I will throw you out into the dead of winter."

There was an awkward silence, the king's face no longer amused, but rather shocked. However, after a few more moments a thin smile returned as he cleared his throat. "AH, young love." He started as he got up, approaching the door. "I remember when Matthew and I _used_ to be like that. The honeymoon phase. Sooner or later the two of you will get used to having the other around, and you'll trust them enough to not act so _aggressive_ around the presence of another Alpha. But I guess after almost 3 months, you still don't trust your little _omega_ enough to not jump into the nearest Alpha's arms. Isn't that right?" And with that biting remark, the Frenchman left, closing the door softly behind him.

It took Arthur a few moments to process the statement, but when he had, he was furious. Alfred, however, looked indifferent. He stood up, sighed and went to the bathroom, spending a few minutes in there. While he was gone, the brit felt himself simmering at the other's insult. Little omega?! Who the hell does he think he is?! He comes into their room, and when he's told to leave he insults him? Arthur knew little about French life, but that didn't sound normal. The American returned with a wet rag, tugging the blanket off of the brit and wiping his chest off. The brit hissed when the cold rag brushed his sore nipples, but the American ignored him, continuing to wipe. The moved his hand to the other's penis and wiped it clean of precum. Once he was done, he pulled off the brit's nightgown and rolled up the now soiled blanket, dumping them in a pile near the door for the maid.

~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~

Arthur frowned as he laced his black leather boots, not wanting to sit anywhere near Francis. Alfred was too busy positioning his own crown to notice the brit sulk. Arthur did and undid his black trousers, tightening it around his waist, tucking in his white blouse. The white blouse, thank goodness, was quite loose, however it was fitted enough to accentuate his small waist, which was a little upsetting. It didn't want to give Francis a reason to start mocking him, or worse, bring up his omega status. Arthur jumped when he felt large arms wrap around his waist, but smiled thinly when he realized it was just Alfred. The gesture would have normally cheered him up, but it just drove the point of him having womanish features further, the man's arms wrapping around him easily.

"Arthur, babe, calm down." He whispered softly, kissing the top of the brit's head. "I'll talk to Francis, you can just talk to Matthew, you know, so you could catch up." He pulled himself away and lead the other out of the room, down the hall, and into his spacious study. When they had gotten there, both Matthew and Francis were waiting in front of Alfred's desk. There were two chairs behind the desk, one obviously for Arthur, and it made him smile slightly. Arthur made eye contact with Matthew, who beamed warmly at him, violet eyes happy and cheeks rosy. His skin was glowing healthily. The brit made his way straight to him, embracing him whole heartedly, He hadn't realized how much he missed the other. Matthew chuckled as he hugged back.

"How are you Arthur? It's been such a long while, I missed you!" He said softly, looking down at the still much shorter brit. Arthur smiled at the question. How was he?

"Well, things have been a little hectic, but I'm feeling good. How are you doing?" He asked politely. Matthew nodded.

"Well, same pretty much. Redecorating a castle is hard work. Replacing all of the drab red curtains for vibrant purples is a lot of work, and finding the right glass worker to create a stain glass portrait is harder than I thought it'd be." Arthur shot his eyebrows up.

"Your redecorating a castle. What about the history there? Surely there are artifacts you shouldn't remove." Arthur was genuinely curious. He lead them to the back of the study, forgetting the two Alphas and keeping their conversation going.

"Why, yes, there is. I'm keeping almost everything; the portraits, the lights, the walls. I'm just changing the color theme is all, and most of the furniture. France could afford it." He said with a wave of his hand. "You should take note, considering you'll be redesigning a castle yourself sooner or later." Arthur gulped. Why would he be redesigning a castle? Unless...

"Alfred told you about...?" He trailed off, noting the amusement on Matthew's face.

"Yep! You'll love it in American. I really miss it there, it is so beautiful." The American said reminiscently. Arthur toiled with what the other had just said and shrugged, not too sure of that. Matthew noticed and frowned. "Arthur, I know it's not home to you yet, but it will be, just give it a chance."

"I am going to give it a chance, it's just the people there who won't give me a chance." He said matter of factly, leaning back against a bookcase. Matthew looked confused, but the brit elaborated. "According to your mother," Matthew groaned, knowing where it was going,"I'm a demon, a vixen, a fuck toy. My existence has already travelled around the castle, and she wants Alfred to dispose of me. I just know there will be conflict, I could just feel it." Matthew patted his shoulder.

"Well, buddy" he said softly. "My mother may be a stone cold monster to people she thinks of as threats" Arthur furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but the other ignored it. "But she loves her kids more than anything. The moment she realizes how much Alfred loves you, she'll get over your ethnicity. Trust me." He gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and Arthur appreciated the words of advice.

"Arthur, Mattie!" Alfred called from the other side of the study. "We need to talk."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

"No" Arthur said as he got up from his chair. The brit walked towards the end of the study, but was stopped abruptly by a stiff hand. He turned to find that the hand belonged to the Frenchman, so he tugged his hand away. "Get off and get away from me! That's what you came all of this way for? To force me elope!?" The Frenchman growled and grabbed the brit by the wrists harshly.

"Be quiet and listen! Don't you love your mate?! Stop being a _petite chienne dificille_ , and think." Alfred barked and rushed from behind the desk, but not before the king had grabbed the brit by the shoulder and shook violently. "IF YOU AND ALFRED GET MARRIED ALONGSIDE WITH US, NEITHER OF US WILL GET IN TROUBLE. IF MATTHEW AND I DO IT ALONE, THEIR MOTHER WILL THROW A FIT AND TRY TO ANNUL OUR MARRIAGE!" The brit struggled to push away, head spinning as the other shook him with his surprisingly strong arms. When he was eventually pried away by his mate, he was still dizzy, and he couldn't stop himself from wobbling.

"If you lay _another_ hand on him, the least of your worries will be your marriage!" Alfred barked.

"Oh please, maybe your _stupid_ omega thinks this is a bad idea, but you and I know this is the best for us. The people of France want this marriage, it's your crooked mother that has the issues. If we both go against her, she'll have no _choice_ but to go along, seeing that you're the future king! The people will trust your judgment! Especially if trade relations will get better. And think about it, if your mother manages to annul Matthew and I's marriage, then she'll have no difficulty blocking yours from ever happening. She'll get away with murder before she'll let you marry that- that- that _putain!_ "

Arthur didn't understand an ounce of French, but the venom in his voice gave him a pretty accurate assumption of what he was calling him. Matthew looked horrified with his mate, and Alfred looked mildly confused. He probably didn't understand an ounce of it either. Before the prince could respond, the other prince, Matthew, stepped in between them and slapped Francis hard across the cheek. "How _dare_ you say such vile things about my brother's mate!? They said no mon amour, stop pressing. We only came to stop by and say hey, we only thought of this plan a day and a half ago. Nothing was riding on this." He turned to his older brother and pouted before hugging him apologetically.

"It's okay Mattie, it's fine." Alfred said softly, running his hands through his brother's hair. The other did the same, and the brit and Frenchman watched awkwardly as they pulled away from each other. The Americans turned to their mates with soft smiles, the older starting to speak. "Artie, maybe-"

"No, no, no, no, no. This an interesting plan, but your mother already hates me, and the moment she finds out we got married without her approval and the blessing of the court she'll never change her opinion of me! Or did you forget about that entirely?" Arthur huffed, raking his hand through his hair. The king scoffed.

"O s'il te plait! You hardly know the woman" groaned a French accent. "Why the hell does her opinion of you even matter!? She would never give her approval of your relationship, and the court will never give their blessings to the likes of you! Or did you forget _entirely_ about that?" Arthur couldn't help how the heat travelled to his cheeks, how his blood was beginning to boil. Arthur hissed.

"Shut your _bloody_ mouth, you frog!" He yelled with as much venom as possible. Alfred's eyes widened in shock, along with everyone else's, however, that didn't stop the furious brit. "You and Matthew may be detached from the problem, but _I'm_ the one who has to go all the way to that bloody castle and live there for the rest of _my_ life! I'm already unpopular among them, and doing this would just add another _reason_ to their list! The Queen has more supporters than me, more influence than me, probably more skill than me, and I am _fairly_ certain that she's already formulating a plan to get me out of the picture! Even _without_ eloping, chances of my well being staying intact while at that bloody prison of a palace is already grim! If I agree to this ridiculous plan, you and Matthew might get out scratch free, but I'll be torn to _shred_ s! The chances of _my_ survival goes from slim to none! And yes I _care_ about Matthew, and yes I love my _mate_ but for you all to _suggest_ that I lay my life on the line for a plan that _migh_ t work, a plan the two of you thought up 2 _days_ ago, is the stupidest, most _inconsiderate_ thing I've _ever_ heard!"

The group stood there in silence, soaking in what was just said. The Americans, both of them, began to hum contemplatively, and the French king looked annoyed. Probably has no come back. Arthur rolled his eyes, really done with this 'reunion'. He walked past the trio without saying a single word, heading straight for the door. He had just grabbed the knob when he heard his mate clear his throat.

"I'm sorry Arthur. I just can't seem to stop upsetting you." The prince groaned out annoyed, but judging by the way he was tugging at his own hair, he was annoyed at himself. "Come here. I'm sorry, I didn't think about it like that." He held his arms open and he waited patiently for the brit to come into his arms. The Englishman wasn't to dive into the other's chest, but there was something stopping him from doing so. Was the fact that he wasn't alone that was setting him off? Or was it just the company? Arthur discreetly looked around the room with narrow eyes. Francis and Matthew were still silent, watching the seen. The pair had an expectant look on their faces, the king actually having a little smirk. What does he think is going to happen? That'll he'll run into the prince's arms and suddenly he'll go along with anything?

 _Little Omega..._

Ahh, that's right, because Arthur's an omega he must bend to the will of his mate, because surely he is too feeble and fickle to take a stand. It is expected of him to run into the hands of his 'protector', of his theoretical 'master'.

Well, not this time. Arthur shook his head slowly at the American and pulled the door open, stepping through without looking back, leaving the room.


	17. Chapter 17

It was late afternoon and Arthur was still ignoring Alfred, who did everything he could to get the other to talk to him. Currently they were in the study, and Arthur was trying to read a book, but the American wouldn't stop poking his cheek. Arthur swatted him away at first, but he would just come back more persistently because he had gotten a reaction. However, now Arthur was dead set on ignoring the other for at least a day rather than the 40 minutes he had planned on initially. The prince began to hum. The monotone sound was annoying, no matter how hard Arthur tried to shut it out, the sound rattled around in his head, making it impossible to read his book. The brit gave up. He snapped his head toward his mate and scowled at him deeply, before hissing.

"Do you have any idea how annoying you are being?" He asked sourly. The American smirked and shrugged coyly, knowing full well the effects of his humming. Even as the prince stopped, the brit could still feel the small vibrations in his ear canal. "Alfred, I'm not angry at you, I was just proving the point that you're not in charge me. I'm fine, leave me alone." He huffed as he turned back to his book. The humming didn't continue, so the brit sighed in relief, thinking it was over. Perhaps he could get some reading done? That thought was interrupted by a small tap on his shoulder, causing a dramatic groan to escape his lips. "What~?"

"I know that it was some sort of display of dominance, I'm not offended. You just left the room, that's not much of a remonstrance. Maybe, the next time you get a little heated because of Francis, do something that doesn't only convey an internal win. It didn't leave anyone in awe, it just made things awkward for me, really. But like i said, I'm not angry, and i meant what i said about me not thinking about your perspective. I also don't want you to feel threatened or coerced or obliged to doing for Francis because you don't owe him a thing." He said softly, looking at his nails. Arthur quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, for your information" the brit said calmly, leaning his head to the side to get the prince's full attention, "I didn't, nor will I ever feel forced to do anything for that frog-" He was cut off mid sentence by the American's giggling. "What?"

"'Frog?', that was a good one Artie. I have to admit that I had to exercise a whole lot of self control to keep myself from laughing." He said through chuckles. Arthur's face heated up a bit at the praise, but he smiled warmly at his mate.

"Ah, yes. Thank you, but back to what i was saying." He cleared his throat, looking to make sure Alfred was paying attention. "I will never feel forced to do anything for the French king. Ever, so don't even worry about that. Second, I wasn't trying to impress anyone when I left the room, I did it for myself just like when you exercise alone. You don't do it for yourself, not the validation of others. And besides, why would I want to stay in a room with someone as disrespectful as him. Who knows what he actually said when he spoke in his native tongue? However, I'm quite certain it was neither polite nor true in the slightest, seeing that Matthew gave him a good hard one for me." Arthur said with a thin smile. Something about that Frenchman just irks him.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sorry for not having your back so much, I got really tired half way through and the second he started speaking French i just blanked for a second." He said, guilt and shame lacing his voice. That's when the brit remembered that Alfred was still recovering, and that he should be in bed. However, the American looked normal, he must had bags under his eyes, despite the fact that he had been sleeping most of the day. Arthur smiled and nodded.

"It's not your fault, we should get you back to be, you need your rest." He was about to get up when the prince shook his head.

"I feel fine, i don't think i'll need to go back now. And besides, look at all of the work that has been piling up" he pointed at his desk for emphasis. It was stacked with papers, no one thinking to take matters into their own hands and making executive decisions. "I think I'll get to it now, are you going back to the room, or are you gonna keep me company?" he asked, standing up, stretching. Arthur thought for a bit. "Or" the prince added with a smile, "I could take a stack with me and spend the day in the bedroom." Arthur smirked, nodding happily.

"Okay"

* * *

Arthur was laying on his side watching his mate do his work under the light of the flickering candles. The knight was wearing his large red glasses in order to see clearly, and he had a quill in his hand to underline and initial the contracts. Arthur had asked him what the parchments were for, and every time the American explained or at least tried to, Arthur got confused at all of the titles of these people involved that he had just stopped asking. Alfred was working astutely, drowning out the world around him. But seeing how focused the American was showed the brit a nerdier side of his normally abrasive partner. He was very sexy, Arthur could hardly hold back his hands.

Eventually, he can't stop himself. He rolls over enough for him to bury his face in the other's hip bone. Alfred didn't seem to notice, in fact, he just readjusted his glasses, squinting at a clause. He growled silently as he read it, and for a moment the brit thought he was the reason for his anger. But then the prince caressed his cheek softly, sighing as he forced himself to calm down. "It's okay, you can stay." He mumbled, shifting through his documents. He had shifted through his papers again, sighing heavily. "Where did I put it?" he grunted, annoyed. Arthur watched him with curious eyes.

"What are you looking for?" he inquired. The American shrugged.

"I received a letter from my mother a few days ago, but i can't find it now." Arthur scowled at the mention of his mate's mother, but instantly felt bad as he noticed the guilt and concern in the other's eyes. The queen was still the American's mom, so of course he was still looking forward for her letters.

"I can help you look." the brit offered as he pulled away. "What does it look like?" He said as he sat up, stretching like a cat. He heard the American sigh in relief.

"Like this." he said with a small smile, lifting up the lost letter. "You rolled on top of it, so i couldn't see it." he explained as he motioned for the brit to return to his prior position. Arthur obliged, resting his head on the other's hip, smiling as he did so. "Oh" The American said blankly as he scanned the letter.

"What, is it not from your mother?"

"It is, but it isn't for me. It's addressed to you." he said almost disappointed. He handed the letter to the brit, but the latter refused to take it.

"You read it and filter what she says to me. I've had enough rude monarchs for the day." he deadpanned. Alfred hummed.

"Just take it. Its just a piece of parchment whats the worst that can happen?" he said with a tired shrug. Arthur scowled, plucking the paper out of his hand. He read the first line aloud.

"'Mr. Pendragon, it has come to my attention that my son fancies you'? Where was this mild manner when she was writing to you? I would think opening up with a 'Dear Whore' would better sum up her perception of me." He sad mockingly. The prince frowned but said nothing, allowing the brit to read.

 _Mr. Pendragon,_

 _It has come to my attention that my son fancies you, and will more likely than not, bring you to his coronation. He is being crowned on July fourth, to signify the the 'birth' of a new king. The coronation will be held in the capital, and the after party will take place in the grand hall of the palace. In this hall, the most respectable and noble of our allies will be there, their power something only you can dream of, and never acquire._

 _I am telling you this because I am giving you an opportunity to reject my son's offer. Not only will you embarrass him, you'll embarrass yourself. You have no sense of refinery and elegance, probably living in squalor all of your life, like a wild animal, trash. There is no place for a peasant like you in a place of such majesty, you would only taint the grand atmosphere. Also, i would recommend not going for obvious reasons, it is very well just a waste of time. You and my son won't last, you don't have what it takes to be royalty. In fact, he might leave you before you get married, shoving you on the ship back to your putrid island and leaving you to your own vices. If he even does that for you; he could very well just throw you out on the streets and leave you to the other peasants. You're British, people will chase you out before letting you marry the king. Your kind have attacked our ports throwing millions into poverty. You will definitely be the target of their frustrations._

 _Now, if that doesn't scare you, I'll make you an offer you can't refuse. Leave my son once you enter the country and I will give you asylum in Canada. My sister is the duchess there, a kind hearted soul; she'll host you, let you in. She was against the entirety of the war, she'll hold no prejudices against you. This offer will only stand up until your 3rd night at the palace; she will be visiting then and you'll be able to leave with her. I'll distract Alfred long enough for you to leave the city, he won't dare follow._

 _Now, if you refuse my offer, don't expect me to sway the public's opinion of you; you will have to do that on your own. Good luck trying to get them to listen to you, a savage of the unholiest kind._

 _Respectfully,_

 _Queen Martha_

Arthur stared at the letter, glancing at the American with heated eyes as he put it down. The American looked confused, as if the brit hadn't just read the letter out loud. Arthur rolled away from him, facing the opposite wall so he no longer had to look at the idiotic face of his face. Today was just getting better and better.

"Arthur." The other said softly. Arthur didn't respond. "I know it's disheartening, but she's just playing mind games. I mean, how can she possibly keep me from going after you?" Huh? Is that the only part he has an issue with? Is that the only part he is going to respond to?

 _"_ 'A savage of the unholiest kind' _, '_ trash', I'll just 'taint the atmosphere'. I don't know this woman personally, but I know she hates me already." Arthur said loud and slow, so the American would hear every single syllable. Arthur was hated by his mother, and he wanted Alfred to know. "Do what you want with that information." There was an awkward silence as the American tried to gather his thoughts.

"She's just afraid of change, of not being queen. She'll realize soon enough that retirement is just as fun as being ruler, if not more so. You have nothing to be afraid of, at the coronation, most of the people there will be around our age and won't be as close minded as my mother. She's just tense about your ethnicity, the nativism will pass, in and around the castle. People will get used to having you around, like the knights here have, and they'll go on with daily life. She seems a bit paranoid, but that's because she hasn't met you, and it doesn't hurt that you're really pretty. She's biased towards pretty people. She'll look past your flaws quicker than you think." He crawled over to the brit and wrapped his arms around him. Arthur didn't pull away but he didn't lean in.

"What flaws? Me being British? She doesn't even know me. Also, young people can be arrogant and close minded too, and I wouldn't be surprised if they insult me the second they hear my accent." He huffed, closing his eyes. He just really wanted to get the introductions over with. "When are we leaving anyway?" The American hummed against his back, thinking.

"A few days actually. Maybe in 4 days. We should get our affairs settled." He said with a heavy sigh.

"I don't have any affairs to settle."

"Your brothers?"

"Who cares. They probably think I'm dead." He lied. He did care, and he feared that they would catch wind of his nearing departure. If they do, they won't hesitate to take him by force and kill Alfred. "We should get going as soon as possible. We need to be early for your coronation."

* * *

 _3 days later..._

Arthur and Maggie silently packed his things for tomorrow's early travel. There has been no sign of the Kirkland brothers, but Alfred was still looking for them, he and some of his men personally going out on rides along the coast. He was gone at the moment, but he had left Davie behind to protect the fortress with a handful of guards. So far so good.

"I can't believe you're actually going." Maggie said, breaking the silence. "I love you, and I want you to be happy but... this is kinda the lion's den." He sighed, stopping her packing. "I think you're better off staying here, with me and the rest of the maids who will be given this place to live in. It's safe, self sufficient, and we all love you." her voice dripped with sadness, and Arthur felt his heart clench.

"I know, but... I know I love Alfred enough to go through some pain. Not everyone here liked me at first, but eventually, you did. All I need to do is start from scratch. And if you'll miss me so bad, you can come along too, Alfred said I could bring along whoever I liked." He explained, continuing to organize the gowns he was going to keep. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Maggie shake her head.

"I left that country for a reason, it's so hostile. My mother, half British half Italian, was killed in a riot 4 years ago. I prefer not to go back to a place that reminds me of such an event." She explained calmly.

"My whole family died here." He said again. "I don't have anything holding me back, really. Pretty much, as of right now, most of my life revolves around Alfred and he has my heart. I know as long as I'm with him, I'll be at home." He believed it, to some extent, but he knew that if things went too left, and that if he couldn't handle the repercussions, he'll just return to this fortress, to his friends.

"Alright then," she said, rubbing her eyes clean of tears. "Just be careful"

* * *

 **One week later...**

Arthur had to hold back his frustrated sigh as Francis put down his card, smiling cockily. The bastard was winning.

"Hue hue hue, Arthur mon amie, you don't stand a chance! The art of Gambling was originated in France, you know." Arthur wrinkled his nose at that.

"We aren't gambling." Arthur huffed. "And the earliest evidence of Gambling was found in China, not France," he corrected. Francis smiled widely as he waited for Arthur to put down a card. Arthur silently prayed to his god that the card was a 7, he needed a 7 to get 21. They were playing blackjack you see, and the young adults were willing to kill each other for the win. Nothing, however, was on the line. Arthur smiled widely. "Blackjack." Francis scowled as he scooped up the cards, shuffling them.

"Why do you these random things anyway?" He asked as he dealt the cards. Arthur hummed, confused. "I said why do you know random information about Gambling and stuff in general." he reiterated. Arthur frowned, thinking for a moment.

"I read a lot," he answered honestly. "You retain a lot of information when you read things that interest you." He put a card down, a 10. Francis put one down too, drawing a 4. "I personally find Russian history the most fascinating," he continued, causing the king to look up at him in shock.

"Really?" He looked stunned, and Arthur, for a moment, felt mildly concerned. Francis must have noticed, and he smiled again. "It's just that, The Russians are a little... behind on the times, you know. They hardly have guns to be honest. They're just a massive country, not much else." Francis explained. Arthur nodded.

"It's true, but I guess I just enjoy how they used their strategic location of Moscow to gain power and break away from the last of the Mongolian 'dynasty', for the lack of a better word. The Golden Horde, i find, was more of a monarchy than dynasty if i remember correctly, however, i could be completely wrong." He put down a 5. " I also find their current leadership, Peter, very capable. His restorative approach to Russian issues is something to be followed." Francis shrugged.

"I guess the old man is cool, but the Russian royals as a whole are weirdos, and I don't know how Gilbert put up with it," he sighed dramatically. Arthur frowned, recognizing the name.

"He's the Prussian prince right? What does he have to do with the Russians?" Francis narrowed his eyes at the brit.

"How do you know that? I doubt there's a book on him..." He questioned, Arthur rolled his eyes and told him.

"I told you this already. You know John, the Harold? He told me; he has been tutoring me on people's titles for the last 5 days. Next week he's gonna teach me about relationships and how each royal relates to each other." Francis nodded, the information sounding familiar. He continued, placing down an 8.

"Okay, well, Gilbert Beilschmidt and Ivan Braginski are engaged and are to be married on the Russian prince's birthday, December 30." Arthur nodded, understanding. "If only you had been there to see, the look in Gilbert's eyes when he found out..." Francis trailed off. "They're forced to spend time together, a week out of every month in Moscow so Gilbert will get used to the Russian scenery. Ivan didn't take it very well either, and his sisters wanted to renegotiate the terms, however, their fathers had already decided. They've been engaged for about 3 months now, preparations are being made as we speak. I'll introduce you to them during the coronation. You'll enjoy Gilbert, and Ivan... well, you won't dislike him."

~~~~~~~~Wk~~~~~~~~

After the card game, Alfred had come back from his daily tanning session and flopped onto the bed, considerably darker.

"Well, you got darker" Francis pointed out, and Alfred beamed at him, seeming proud at his accomplishment.

"I know, isn't this great. I swear, you guys need to get some warm air while it lasts because its the middle of February and weather this warm and sunlight that strong is unheard of this time of year. I'm tired of being pale." At that, The Frenchman and the Englishman frowned, glancing down at their own complexions. Alfred caught what he had said, and took it back. "But i personally think the two of you guys look fantastic without a tan. Though, i do wish the two of you would spend some time above deck, get some fresh air. You've been down here for three days." He complained. Francis scowled.

"Weather like this is unnatural, and I don't want to involved in this witchcraft. For all you know, your skin is slowly burning off." He said, running his hands through his hair. Arthur found himself nodding, the weather making him uneasy. It felt like summer in the dead of winter. "And besides," The Frenchman continued, "This climate has made me and your mate friends." At that Arthur scoffed, earning a lewd wink from the King.

"Don't wink at me, frog." He said as got up from the floor, walking over to his mate. "I would prefer to be alone but you're here, and i have no choice but to communicate with you because you thought it would be a good idea to join us for our ride to the states." He stated matter of factly, but his voice held no venom. the animosity he had for the Frenchman had died down considerably, in fact, no longer disliking his presence. The French King, though rather annoying, was rather kind and fun to be around. He would never admit that though.

Alfred outstretched his arms and let the brit lie against his chest. "Well, as long as you two can get along that's all that matters." He nuzzled his nose up against Arthur's head. "Oh! yeah," he said suddenly, sitting up abruptly. The Brit yelped as he landed on the ground with a soft thump, swearing as he sat up. Alfred winced. "I'm sorry." he said, helping the other up. "I forgot to tell you something. John wants to have another lesson again; something about relationships." Alfred said with a shrug. Arthur groaned.

"Oh come on, mon amie, these sessions are for your own sake." Francis ignored the scowl on the brit's face and continued to shuffle his cards. "Alfred, while your mate is away, would you care for a hand?" Francis smirked. Alfred shrugged, placing a quick kiss on the other's cheek and sitting beside the other, picking up his hand. Arthur sighed, putting on a large hat to block out the sun, leaving the cabin.

* * *

"Good Afternoon John" Arthur said with a soft smile as he sat down in the harold's cabin. He was apart from the rest of the crew, who were forced to share a very large bunker under the private cabins. The room was originally intended for Davie, Alfred's second in command, but Francis had also brought along his second in command, Chancy, so that would have inhospitable to not acknowledge him. Davie was very willing in letting the other keep the room, but Chancy, to Arthur's surprise, an omega, was uncomfortable with the idea, he didn't want to displace the other of his assigned chamber. When the two couldn't come to an agreement, Alfred assigned the room to John, because he was third in command.

So now here Arthur was, about to commence in his 4 tutoring session with the Harold.

"Good Afternoon, Arthur. I hope you've spent your time wisely." he said with a hum. The harold was a stocky man with black wavy hair and glasses. He had a thick mustache that connected to his neat black beard, which connected to his bushy sideburns. He narrowed his hazel eyes at the brit, who frowned slightly. "You've been playing cards again, huh?" Arthur feigned innocence.

"I was just talking it up with Francis for some insight on the politics of parties." he kind of lied. They did talk about introductions at the coronation. John saw through his lie like paper, the brit could tell by the way he lifted his thick brows, eyes widening in amusement. "I learned that Prince Gilbert is engaged to Ivan Braginski, and that the two may or may not detest each other and the whole schpeel." He said with a wave of his hand, and John shook his head.

"They are engaged, but the last time i checked, they were getting along much better than either expected. Russian White Palace maids saw them laughing together by the frozen lake, bonding over the frozen cadavers of animals that didn't make it out of the lake before it froze over. The two apart are bad enough, but together i fear Russia may be another power America has to watch over." He mumbled. Arthur frowned.

"Surely we can just make treaties, right. Give them goods in exchange for goods and peace. We could just strengthen our ties with them while we can and not wait till tensions are high enough to threaten war." He suggested, but the harold shrugged.

"Alfred is already great friends with almost everyone. The only people he isn't friends with are the people he has threatened." He mumbled again. Arthur couldn't help but frown a little. Threaten?

"Who has he threatened, and why?" Alfred has only ever been kind... well... he had his moments of anger, but they were only to protect Arthur so the brit never thought much of it. his people still love him, and fear him only slightly. But that's how it should be, your people should fear you because otherwise how will you keep order?

"A few countries that raided American or American allied ships. He is very strict and rigid when it comes to foreign policies and often his father allowed him to create a few rules and regulations. The acts, the impressment acts, was a warning shot at countries who would kidnap American sailors and force them into their army. If a country kidnapped American sailors, or if American sailors were kidnapped on their waters, the country would be held responsible and American troops would be stationed there. And the Foreign commerce act of... i forget the year, prohibited other countries from destroying American Merchant boats or merchandise because that will be seen as an attack on the American people, allowing for armed government intervention. These acts were by far the most radical to come out of the Jones Monarchy, but they were the most successful. He was only 14 at the time." John mumbled out, allowing the information to marinate.

"Oh," Arthur said, not sure about how he would respond. "That's impressive."

"You have no idea."


	18. Chapter 18

**Arthur's point of view.**

John shook his head for the umpteenth time and Arthur couldn't hold back his groan of annoyment. John reached across the table and grabbed the brit left hand softly. Arthur opened his eyes to look into warm hazel ones, that seemed to give him reassurance. Arthur shook his head, it's okay to make mistakes now, better than at the coronation. "Alright, ask me again." He said, squaring his shoulders off. John smirked proudly and repeated himself.

"Good evening lord Arthur, my name is so and so and I can't help but wonder how you had myself acquainted to my dear ally prince Alfred. I mean no disrespect, but I have watched for years as Alfred turned down suitors by the dozens, i would just like to know how the two of you lovebirds met." John said , still holding on to Arthur's hand. The brit was glad, whenever he got nervous, he found comfort in the physical presence of another. Though he knew he wouldn't always be able to hold someone's hand, he was just beginning, and he knew that soon enough he'd be fine speaking without support. He cleared his throat.

"Oh, it is quite alright, I find no offense in the question lord so and so. However, i must warn you, it is quite an uneventful story, i fear i might bore you to death." He He tried to act as confident as possible, as secure and as friendly. He looked at John, and like always, he was in character, not letting the brit know how he was doing until the end of the interaction. So, he continued. "It all started in Lancaster, England. It's a small county town outside of Lancashire. As you know the war decimated London, but a few towns were able to survive, like mine. My father, Sir Arnold Pendragon, is a fairly wealthy merchant who sometimes provided the Fortress Savage with weapons and servants when they were low. I, however, usually handled the paperwork and never really met my trade partners. At least until I ran into a knight at the bank of the river Lune. I didn't recognize him, i just thought he was another American, so I began to talk to him and asked him if he needed help.

"He was so kind and well mannered as we chatted, and I couldn't help but fancy him. I took him too my father, where, to my shock, they knew each other. In fact, they embraced each other like old friends. That was when I found out who he was. Throughout our entire conversation, only his name has came up, Alfred Jones, he never brought up his rank. As you could imagine, I was dumbfounded and utterly embarrassed at my causal behaviour. The prince, however, didn't mind, and in fact stayed a few nights at my father's house, to talk to me, to talk to my dad? I don't know, but at the end of the visit, he invited me to spend a few days at his Fortress..."

"Oh, and you just went, just like that?" John asked, still in character. He looked suddenly judgmental, and Arthur knew that he was trying to get Arthur to save himself. Arthur chuckled.

"Oh, well, of course not. I denied him as politely as possible, despite the feeling in my gut begging me to go with him. To my surprise, though, he kept returning, sometimes for meetings with my father, or just to walk with me on the river bank. Either way, he always came to see me when he was in the area, and that was almost daily, despite the two hour ride to get to me. And for a few weeks, we continued like that, and eventually I told my father of my excursions. to say the least he wasn't surprised."

"Why? Do you do things like this often?" John asked with a quirked brow. Arthur frowned for a split second before he caught himself, forcing a straight face.

"Before i met Alfred i would always stay in my office or in my chambers, I had no real interest to interact with people i had no interest in. So when I began suddenly going out more, my father simply figured i had met someone worth my time, and with the Prince coming as often as he had it took no genius to piece things together." he said coldly, almost snapping. He sighed, already knowing the outcome of this simulation. John frowned at his tone.

"You can't snap at royalty, Arthur." John said with a shake of his head, disapprovingly. Arthur groaned, it was going so good. "However, everything up until then was good, not great, but good. We'll have time to work on your cover story. Let's get you in the clue." He began to hum as he shuffled through his papers, long since removing his hand from the other. "Aha!" he looked excited, the corners of his eyes were wrinkled because he was smiling to his eyes. Arthur couldn't help but smile back.

"Your 'Father', Mr. Pendragon, has just set sail, the messenger hawk just came in." John new the truth already, the prince, apparently, telling the harold on the first night, not even a full 24 hours after he had promised the brit he wouldn't have told anyone. Arthur didn't know how he felt about it, but he had found himself very comfortable with the harold himself, and was afraid that their future interactions would be awkward. "Here, he sent you a letter of adoption. Go on, take it." he handed the brit the parchment, ignoring the englishman's face. What the hell is he talking about.

Adoption papers?

 _Dear Mr. Pendragon,_

 _It appears that you have dragged me into a scheme, one that will bring me either great fortune or great grief. You may not know this, but I have no living children, all of them lost to the plague, and eventually, though I am not so old, I know my time will come too and all of my great wealth will be lost as well. I need an heir, a legal heir, and if I adopt you, you will become my heir._

 _I'm adopting you purely for security reasons._

 _However, like every deal, there's a catch. For me to continue pretending to be your father, you must adhere to these things._

 _1) You must keep my estate and pass it down_

 _2)You must be willing to learn about how i conduct my business and take lessons from me on a weekly bases_

 _3)You must promise to continue all of my business ventures when you eventually take control of my estates_

 _These are quite simple, and easy enough. We will meet face to face on the mainland, and i will introduce myself formally. Attached to this letter is a document asking you release some of your responsibilities to me. Nothing too drastic, just you needing my permission to do serious things like marriage and divorce. I won't, and i repeat, I won't be an imposing figure in your life, and in fact, you won't even see me unless for our meetings. However, in times of emergency, I have a country home a few days way from the capital, i know how difficult it can be for a brit in America, i go there often enough to know._

 _Best regards, Sir Arnold Pendragon_

Arthur stared at the letter, face slowly contorting into a frown. "Well, i would have appreciated a few days notice." John sighed.

"I would have too, but it appears the prince is taking things into his own hands. I know this may feel like a violation, but just know he has nothing but the best intentions." Arthur rose an eyebrow. He didn't feel violated, at least not yet, he didn't even feel too stressed.

"YeaH" Arthur said, looking around for a quill. He had nothing to lose, his parents were dead, his brothers were back at the island and he needed a supporting character in his fake story. He had found one and this would probably be his only chance. He spotted a quill across the room and moved to retrieve it, grabbing the tool, and taking it back to the table. He groaned when he noticed he didn't have an ink well. "John, where is the ink well?" he asked, turning his head.

"On the shelf."

Arthur went to the shelf, shuffled for a bit, and found the ink well, grabbing it and taking it back to the table. He dipped the quill in the ink, and signed his name, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had no idea what he was really getting into, he just prayed that it would be better than how the queen will treat him. He shuttered at the thought. There was no going back, he would have to meet the queen soon.

~~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~~

Arthur snuggled up against his alpha and sighed, exhausted. It was a long day, even though he didn't do much, and all he wanted was to spend time with his mate. Alfred was currently stroking his hair, smiling and humming to himself, occasionally kissing his forehead. The brit purred, tracing circles along the other's shirtless chest. It was was around midnight, and the rest of the crew were still chatting it up on the decks, having a merry time. The englishman had to admit, it was fun when the sun was down, the ominous feeling in his gut when it was around was gone and he could fully enjoy himself. Arthur often wondered what it was meant to be a sign for. If he was put off by it, then it must have been bad. Nevertheless, the brit never expressed his concerns, because it would require him to expose himself as magical and who knows how much of a strain that could cause in a relation, even one as strong as the one he had with Alfred.

"Artie, are you okay? You look a little worried." The American asked lazily. The brit shrugged and smiled it off.

"No, I was just thinking about life, and how the smiles won't last forever." He yawned onto the prince's chest. Alfred hummed again.

"Well," the American started, and Arthur rolled his eyes. "Things won't change too much." At that, Arthur couldn't help but scoff.

"You're going to become king of an entire country, I'm moving into an entirely new country, and I have signed away my rights to my new legal guardian, a man i've never met. If all of that seems insignificant to you, then i guess things won't change much." There was no venom in his voice, so he was very taken aback by his lover's response.

"Arthur cut the crap, i know you were referring to my mother when you made your first comment." He mumbled bitterly. "I love you man but can you stop taking jabs at her, its been a week already, are you going to do this for the rest of the trip?" He sounded annoyed, but he only tightened his grip on the brit's waist. Arthur scowled, debating whether or not he should retort. After a moment of consideration, he decided to go for it.

"Can you blame me? She's awful on paper, and god knows what she's saying about me. I could already tell my life isn't going to go as smooth as I'd like, but at the end of the day, I'm going to have to deal with her nagging, and so you're going to have to deal with mine!" Arthur looked his mate in the eyes as a challenge, the alpha staring back with a frown.

"You're going to be living near her for a very long time, alright? You don't know her, yet you swear she's the devil. Don't you realize that as far as you know she's the kindest person out there? That you refusing her a second chance at presenting herself is just going to make your stay less and less enjoyable?" The prince lowkey growled. Arthur caught that and snarled back at the American, who now looked taken aback. "Did you just snarl at me?"

"Yes I did, and if you don't like it, then fuck off and don't growl at me." He huffed, pulling away from the American. Alfred looked incredibly annoyed, but he just sighed heavily.

"Arthur... relax."

"No." The brit glared at the American straight in the eyes. "It may be easy for you, to run around in cursed sunlight and 'chill' with your friends, but my life is going to change dramatically in a few weeks, do you realize? I'm nervous and it's counterproductive to tell me to relax, you know that already." Alfred opened his mouth, as if he were going to say something, but he didn't. He just stared at the englishman before rolling his eyes. Is he serious? Arthur scoffed, irritated.

"Why is it always about you?" The American mumbled as he stood up from the bed.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm going to get some fresh air." He said as he made a move for the door. Where does he think he's going? Arthur didn't bother standing up, making his threat while fluffing his pillow.

"I swear to god if you leave I will follow you and make a scene in front of all of your friends." He received a loud, frustrated growl. The American turned to face the brit with raised brows and red cheeks.

"Arthur, you can not, and will not tell me what to do." He sputtered out. The brit rolled his eyes as the prince continued. "I hold myself partly responsible for your vanity, but Jesus Christ, it's not always about you! You aren't the only one who is stressed! I'm going to be a king in 4 more weeks! I've been trying to mentally prepare myself for the past week but your nagging is making me want to pull my hair out! Arthur, like i said before, I love you, and i always will, but God! Can you stop being a nuisance or more than 24 hours?! I'm tired of hearing you shit talk my mother and getting angry when i don't praise you for it. You're not five, I'm tired of coddling you because you like being at the center of attention. Grow up!" And with that, before the brit even had a chance to respond, he left the room, slamming the door shut.

* * *

 **1 week later...**

Arthur sat playing cards with the Frenchman Chancy, who was currently losing badly. The other was probably the worst card player Arthur had ever come across, yet he still had a determined smile on his face. Chancy had shoulder length pale blonde hair that was silky smooth and shiny. He was a little taller than Arthur, 5 feet and 7 inches, and, unsurprisingly, they had the same body type. However, chancy was much more curvaceous because he had more meat on his bones, weighing a good 20 pounds more. Therefore, as you could imagine, he was a little chubby. His cheeks were a little round, and his chin, when he tucked his head in, made a double layer of fat. His arms were a bit meaty, and his stomach stuck out about half an inch from his buckle. His hips were large, giving him a pear-like figure: small on top and big on the bottom. Chancy was still a man, of course, so he wouldn't have any breast, until he gave birth that is. But as of right now, Arthur's omega friend was still unmated.

Chancy had an impish nose, so it was perfectly straight until you reached the ball of his nose where it was slightly pointed and upturned lightly. He had startling lightning blue eyes and pink full lips. He also sported light freckles across his nose, which Arthur couldn't help but find cute. Everything about this man was cute, and Arthur couldn't help but find himself gravitating towards Chancy. It was probably because he was an omega too, and how he, despite his status, still managed to be second in command. Arthur would spend most of his day watching as the other blond carried himself, barking orders in french and being respected. The englishman always wondered how Chancy managed to get to where he was today, but whenever he didn't, he would always be sharply disappointed.

Chancy only spoke french.

Chancy yawned and set down his cards, he adjusting himself so his head would rest on the brit's lap. Perhaps it was french thing? Francis tried doing it too, but Arthur wouldn't let him. However, it was Chancy, so he let him be. After a few moments Chancy was fast asleep, soft snores can be heard. Before long the brit too, was asleep.

* * *

Arthur woke up to the sound of soft shuffling and hushed voices. The englishman didn't care enough to ask who it was, so he tried to go back to sleep. However, when Chancy started saying his name from across the room, the brit couldn't help but be interested. He knew it was Chancy, not only because of his voice, but because the other insisted on calling him "ami grincheux", whatever the hell that meant.

The brit opened one eye up slightly and saw immediately who was in the room. Chancy and Davie were sitting next to each other, the latter holding up a pink flower and whispering some things. It took Arthur a lot of concentration before he could make out what the other said. "Pe-tals" Davie said, pointing at a petal. Chancy looked uncertain. Davie repeated himself a few times, before sighing. He put the flower down. Chancy pouted.

"Je suis désolé, veuillez me donner une autre chance!" The blond gripped the knight by the bicep and leaned in, continuing to plead. Davie sighed again.

"I don't know what you're saying, but I'll do it one more time." Chancy looked confused until Davie picked up the flower again. "Repeat after me. Peh"

"Peh?"

Davie nodded, a wide grin on his face. "Tuhl"

"Toll? Tall? T-tah?" Chancy fumbled, struggling to emulate the other's words. Davie, shook his head.

"Tuhl"

"Toll"

"Tuhl" Davie repeated.

"Talm" Chancy said, eyes wide. Davie paused and sighed, nodding his head despite the other's failure. Chancy smile proudly at himself. Davie pointed at the part again and said the whole word.

"Peh-tuhl"

"Pee-tall"

"Peh-tuhl"

"Peh-tuhl" Chancy repeated. Davie once again nodded.

"Petal" he said all at once, allowing the other to take in what he was saying. "Petal" he repeated, and he kept on repeating until Chancy finally gestured for him to stop.

"Petol?" Davie closed his eyes, probably asking himself about how he should get out of his situation. The American finally nodded, and Chancy cheered to himself, patting Davie's shoulder as thanks. Chancy began to chant the word, smiling widely as he walked around the room. "Petol, petol, petol, petol..." Arthur could only assume that Davie was giving him an english lesson, why he started with flower parts, he didn't know.

Arthur eventually stretched himself out, yawning dramatically, gaining the attention of the two second in commands. Chancy beamed at him and approached him excitedly, tripped over a boot, and landed with a thud next to the brit. Arthur shot him a displeased look. "You need to be careful, you might hurt yourself" he scolded, but Chancy just shrugged it off, not understanding what the brit was saying.

"Ami grincheux! J'ai un nouveau nom por toi! Petol!" Arthur frowned. Petol! What about petals?

"Petals? What about petals?" He asked, straightening out his clothes. Chancy just chanted the word, pointing at the brit.

"Petol, petol!" he said much more earnestly. Then it suddenly clicked.

"Me? I'm Petol?" he asked, gesturing to himself. Chancy nodded, continuing to point at the brit. The brit nodded along with him, the two blondes just nodding at each other excitedly. They hardly noticed when the prince walked in. Alfred greeted this next in command briefly, pausing to watch the the scene play out in front of him. He smiled warmly before catching himself, returning his attention back to Davie. "I need your assistance," he said. Davie nodded slowly, standing up with a small sigh and following the prince out of the room. Arthur noticed them leaving, and he frowned.

"Well, good morning to you too." He he said low, but loud enough for it to travel to everyone's ears. The prince turned around briefly, humming.

"It's the afternoon now, actually," he corrected, turning and leaving the room. Arthur blinked wildly before turning his attention to Chancy again, pushing Alfred abrasive attitude away from his mind. Chancy had stopped chanting and Davie stared at the brit with empathetic eyes. That's when Chancy stood, readjusting his clothes as he did it.

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked casually. He didn't want to sound so desperate. Chancy pointed at his wrist watch. The brit sighed, understanding perfectly. his break was over, he had to return to the deck and help instruct the French workers. Arthur smiled thinly as he waved them off, both second in commands waving back. Arthur sighed. That bastard scared Chancy away.

That bastard being Alfred of course.

For the last few days, the prince has been giving the brit the cold shoulder, only spending time with the brit at night, when they were asleep. Even then, it was hardly any interaction. A few days ago, Arthur would get into bed and have to force the other to even look at him, and sometime during the night there bodies would find each other and they would wake up in each other's arms. However, now Alfred won't even give him that satisfaction. He stays on the deck until early morning, and try as he might, Arthur can't stay awake long enough to witness his mate climb into bed. The next morning, the brit would awake as early as he could, but only to find that the American had already left, leaving behind only a warm imprint. Arthur only went up to the deck a few times a day, for his daily lessons and a brisk conversation with Matthew. Whenever he tried to approach Alfred, he would tell him he was too busy to talk, or would just ignore his existence and walk away. Arthur, on some occasions, would be able to make Alfred smile warmly, and that would happen during dinner, where everyone was cheery therefore inclining the prince to hold back his attitude. But even if it wasn't him that made Alfred laugh, it would be someone else, and his mate's smile was one of Arthur's favorite things to look at, a prized jewel of sorts.

But like everything else, the prince stripped him of that too.

Alfred had commanded that John continue their lessons in the brit's chamber, so it would be "easier for Arthur to avoid the sun" he had said. He has also asked Francis to send down his second in command to keep the brit company as he and Francis did whatever they did on a boat. And as of late, he has even began sending down the brit's meal, the servants wishing the brit well and that his fever would pass over. What fever? Arthur didn't have a fever. That was just Alfred's way of uninviting the brit from the meals. So he didn't go up for meals, they were just delivered to him. However, he didn't choose to not go because of Alfred alone, dinners had become awkward.

Alfred would ignore and chat to his friends, Matthew would talk to Francis and Arthur wouldn't feel comfortable with encroaching on their quality time. He could try spending dinner with Chancy, but the frenchman had his own friends, people he can actually understand. Besides, he;s already forced to spend two hours of his day to keep the brit company, it wouldn't be fair. Arthur could talk to Davie, and actually enjoy the conversation, but Davie is friends with Arthur but loyal to the prince. On multiple occasions Davie had even avoided the brit altogether because he didn't want to seem partial. He wouldn't hesitate to strike up a conversation with Alfred though, but who was the brit kidding, he's known Davie for 4 months now, nowhere near as long as the knight knew the prince.

All Arthur knew is that he hoped his mate would start acting like the kind person he knew a little over a week ago. Until then, Arthur will remain resolute, not shedding a single tear. The American probably wanted an apology, for what, the brit knew not. Arthur had promised himself that he would stay as composed as possible because Alfred was obviously being cruel to get a reaction out of him. Maybe this'll teach the American that mind games don't work, and that he'll have to face his problems head on.

* * *

4 hours later...

The brit was reading a book while wrapped in a pile of blankets and pillows when the door opened softly. The prince walked in with Davie, smiling and talking about flowers.

"I'm telling you right now, that flower is poisonous." Davie scolded. Alfred shrugged.

"I didn't eat it, i just tossed it overboard! I'm not an idiot; i don't just put random things in my mouth." He began shuffling through his things as he continued to ignore Arthur. The brit, taking the hint, returned to his reading. He was so engrossed into the book that he was soon transported into a new realm of dragons and witches and fairies. He didn't realize Alfred was calling him until he raised his voice. "Earth to Pendragon, do you know where my long shirt is?" He asked, eyebrow raised. Arthur stared at him blankly for a second. Did he just call him by his last name?

"Uh... I think a crew member took it for cleaning. It's probably hanging in one of the lower..." Arthur trailed off as the prince tuned him out and walked towards the door to get his shirt. Why does he need his night shirt now? It wasn't even time for dinner yet. "Why do you need your night shirt?" He asked, letting some of his confusion out. Alfred turned to look at him.

"I keep coming to bed late and I can tell it's making you restless and your condition worse. I'm taking it with me just in case I need to sleep in another chamber tonight." He answered almost robotically. Arthur furrowed his brow.

"I don't feel restless at night when you come home late, but if you insist I am, why don't you just come to bed earlier?" At this point Davie pursed his lips, leaving the room. Alfred shrugged his shoulders.

"I sleep when I'm tired." He turned, pulling the door open, signifying the conversation was over.

"Ok" Arthur said softly, trying not to let his disappointment seep through his voice. It did, a lot did, so much that the prince himself paused. He turned his head slightly.

"Is that okay with you?" he asked softly. Arthur stared at him for a moment. Perhaps this was his chance to get the American back into his life. The brit stumbled with his answer.

"I mean... I would like for you to spend the night with me..." he trailed off as he saw a flash of annoyment cross the American's face. Was he coming off as clingy?

"I spend the night with you every night, why is this a big deal?!" The American snapped at him out of nowhere. Arthur scowled at him.

"Don't yell at me!" He started. "Don't fucking yell at me! Go! Get out! Stay with your friends! I don't care!" he yelled, taking his book and ignoring the American. Alfred hummed indifferently and left the room. Arthur couldn't concentrate on the words in his book, all of his focus on blinking back the stinging feeling in his eyes. He closed the book and rolled onto his side.

"I don't need him. I'm perfectly fine by myself." He soon got up and went into his 'bathroom'. it was actually a room with a bucket, a mirror and a another few buckets of water. He handled his business and washed his hands and face, deciding to go to bed without dinner.


	19. Chapter 19

**3 days later...**

Arthur had woken up in pain. His head ached and his throat was sore. His muscles felt like lead and he it hurt to move. He opened his eyes and hissed in agony as the light hit it, head pulsating. What's going on? He felt like he needed to vomit, heaving over the side of the bed. However, the brit hadn't eaten a single thing for the last two days, so he dry heaved nothing, the only thing threatening to spill out was his organs. He turned to the side in hopes that his mate might have spent the night. He wasn't surprised to see that side was untouched. He hadn't come to see Arthur in three days, not a single interaction.

Arthur couldn't stay in there, he had to get out of his room. He forced his legs over the side of the bed, whimpering out. He stood, panting, already shaking wildly. He tried taking a painful step, and another, and another before the pain became too excruciating, legs buckling and the brit falling down with a harsh thump. He whimpered some more. After a while, he tried to call out, but his voice was so hoarse and broken that it had done nothing but hurt him. Then he felt cramps, doubling over and squeezing his eyes shut, letting the tears fall. What the hell is happening?! Is he dying? Was he poisoned?

He didn't notice he was moving until his head brushed against the leg of his bed. He opened his eyes what he saw made him scream.

There was a 'rope' tied around his foot that was dragging him into the bathroom. This rope, however, wasn't a rope exactly. It was a collection of red runes even he couldn't read, and it was burning his ankle as it pulled him towards who knows what. He screamed again, grabbing at anything to save his sometime. After a few seconds of no one coming in to help, Arthur, while still holding onto the bed, pulled his legs in as best he could, the rune rope being pulled by something strong. He used one hand to try and pull off the rope, hissing as it burned his fingers. His Ankle, he could see, was well beyond blistered, the skin bubbling up gruesomely.

He screamed again, the rope jerking him suddenly and harshly, causing him to lose his grip on the bed. He, try as he might, was no match for the force that was kidnapping him, and he was left scratching at the floor as he was dragged into the bathroom. He turned in fear of his destination, and his heart leapt as to where he was actually going.

The mirror.

The other side of the rope was in the mirror. The glass no longer looked like glass but like liquid mercury, rippling as the brit struggled against the rope. The mirror was a portal, a magic portal leading to god knows where with god knows who. His mate would never find him, as if he'd want to anyway. Arthur began to cry out again, pouring out his desperation and all of his grief, staring at the door of his chamber in hopes of someone, anyone, coming to save him . He began to cry as he felt something cool on his feet. He looked back to his legs and saw that his ankles were submerged in the liquid, that he was being pulled in faster. He began to thrash, but the portal was dense, like quicksand, he could hardly move his legs. He cried out again, but this time, he called for his mate.

"Alfred! Alfred!" his voice was broken and he was crying. He continued to chant his mate's name anyway. "Alfred! Alfr..." he trailed off, already being waist deep in the portal. Is he not worth saving? He placed his hands onto the frame of the mirror and began to push away. It took much effort, and it felt like he was tearing the muscles off of the bone of his arm. Arthur panted, swearing at himself. What's the point of being magic if you can't use it? He had finally begun to see some progress, his thighs no longer being submerged in the mirror. All he needed was a little more time, or help.

As he pushed, he continued to call for his mate, that maybe the prince would be able to feel his distress just as the brit could often feel his. Lost in his thoughts, the brit accidently let his hand slip, the rope finding new life, tugging harshly. The brit couldn't recover in time, now up to his chest in the portal. He let out a gut wrenching scream before he had a mouth full of magic liquid. The portal was up to his eyes when he heard the front door burst open, His mate calling out to him in worry and confusion. Arthur needed to alert him somehow, but how?

He used what little energy he had left to help himself, gripping the frame once more and dragging his head out. "A-Alfred!" he gasped in desperation. He heard the brit call out as he rushed to the bathroom, jaw dropping as he witnessed the brit's head pass through the mirror. Arthur could only see darkness, eyes stinging. He couldn't believe this was happening, he was going to be shot into the middle of nothingness and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it because everyone hates him. He felt one last tear roll before his head, once again, was pulled into the 'real world'. Alfred gripped his wrist, pulling on him fast and hard. Before long the brit's whole body was out of the void. His ankle, however, felt as if it was about to fall off.

"Alfie my ankle." was all he could manage. Alfred stopped pulling and drew his sword, staring at the strange rope in awe. "Alfie please, it's burning me" he whimpered. The American swung down at the rope, and with a spark, it disappeared. Arthur sighed and whimpered. The next thing he knew he was sitting on the bed, the American looking at his ankle. Some of his skin was burned black, others just pink and blistered. Alfred looked conflicted, unsure whether to get help or to dress the burn himself. Arthur just waited for him to decide, knowing full well that the burn won't be there in a few days. He'll heal as quickly as he had when he was stabbed by his brother.

"What's going on?" Alfred asked finally. Arthur was so tired, he didn't want to get into to it.

"I don't know." he lied. He could tell by the writing that it had to be that weird cult he had been avoiding. Alfred hummed, he didn't continue to press, however. He stood up, washed his hands, and brought in a bucket of fresh water from the bathroom. He set it down under the brit's foot and told him to drop his leg. Arthur hissed as the cool water coated the burn, shaking wildly. He whimpered when the prince touched it with some some.

"I need to clean it Artie." he explained. Arthur nodded, pleasantly surprised when he heard the American say his nickname. The prince got up and opened his closet, pulling out a first aid kit. He sat back down on the ground and carefully removed the foot from the water, patting it dry with a few fresh rags in the kit. He then pulled out some ointment and rubbed it on the perimeter of the burn, not the center because there was a slight open wound. He pulled out a roll of fresh bandages and wrapped his burn carefully. When he was done, he reorganized the room, eyes still blown out in shock of what happened. Arthur dragged himself back into bed, utterly exhausted. Alfred went into the bathroom and came out with the mirror tucked under his arm. He left the room without a word and returned a few moments later, without a mirror.

"Where did you put it?" Arthur asked, lazily. Alfred smirked.

"Overboard."

* * *

Arthur admits that he missed the contact. He was being force fed his breakfast, the brit claiming to not be hungry. Of course he was hungry, but he had screamed his throat raw, all he wanted was warm tea with honey. So he got it of course, the prince finally feeling awful for what he did in light of what just happened. Neglecting his mate for a total of 10 days was awful. The brit wasn't angry at the prince, but he did want to know why he had spazzed out the way he had.

"I'm sorry." the brit said suddenly, as the American worked on some papers in bed. He wasn't really paying attention to the brit, but he managed to mutter a "your welcome." Arthur sighed, scooting as close as he could get to the American without angering him, leaving a good 12 inches between them."I said i was sorry, not thank you." he said softly, but the American seemed to notice this time. He turned to the brit with a sad face.

"You actually did nothing wrong, I was just being a dick." He said as he turned back to his working, leaning on the headboard. Arthur wanted to touch him again, snuggle up beside him like he used to, but he didn't know how the other would react. He looked hard at work too, and even though the brit just wanted to know what was going through the American's head, he let him be. No point in starting another argument. Arthur shifted so he could lie down, going to take another nap. It would have been his third one today, even though it was a little before noon.

Arthur was about to drift off to sleep when John walked in with some books. He dropped it though, when he noticed the scene on the bed. Alfred was actually there, and the brit looked frail, pale, and spent. Alfred eyed John warily before telling him the lesson is canceled because Arthur needed rest. John hummed.

"Are you okay Arthur? Do you want me to get a doctor?" he asked, eyeing the brit with suspicion. Arthur shook his head.

"I just have a headache and a sore throat, I'm fine." John nodded and left, the brit thankful that he had asked him personally on what his status was. Alfred had noticed too, but he didn't seem too put off by it. "Are you okay though?" the brit asked the prince. Alfred nodded, not using his voice. "Are you still angry with me?" The brit asked, and the prince shook his head. "Okay, sorry for bothering you then." he whispered, turning around to face the wall. Alfred was here, but he wasn't _here._ Arthur couldn't help but sigh sadly. He guessed it would take some time.

"You aren't bothering me, I'm just busy is all." He said softly, humming. Arthur hummed back at him. Alfred shuffled a little bit behind the brit and eventually kissed the top of his head.

That was the first kiss in 10 days.

Arthur pursed his lips as he blinked back his tears. He promised he wouldn't cry over his mate, but he couldn't believe how happy he was that the torture was over. "Thank you" he said softly, pushing through the fatigue. Alfred hummed in mild confusian before asking what was wrong. "Nothing..." he said with a cracked voice. Alfred shifted again and wrapped his arms around the brit. He asked again. Arthur leaned into his mate, letting his scent bombard his nose. "It's just that it's been such a long time since you... I was beginning to think you didn't love me anymore." He let the tears fall, turning around in the other's arm so he could bury himself in his chest. Alfred remained silent, tucking the brit's head under his chin.

"You've never treated me like that before," he continued, his voice slowly turning into a sob. "You're always so nice to me, the last 10 days were hell. Whenever I tried to talk to you you got angry with me or ignored me. You wouldn't say hi to me or acknowledge me anymore. He wouldn't even look me in the eye at night, if you even spent the night. You ostracized me and I've never felt so alone. Chancy stopped coming because he realized how depressing I was, so for the last three day my only human interaction was an hour lesson about manners. I don't really recall our argument all too well, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry. Just... please... forgive me. I've never felt so unloved before, it hurts, alot." Alfred responded with nothing, but the brit could feel his tears land on his head. Arthur was sorry, and he could tell that the other was sorry too. Finally the other spoke.

"I'm sorry. I really am. It's just that... I'm not... I can't..."He wasn't making any sense, why isn't he responding? Arthur looked up at him with red eyes. Alfred looked afraid, panicked and guilty.

"Alfie, are you okay?" Alfred shook his head.

"I'm not crazy." he whispered more to himself. "He told me too, I had too because he knew how to fix it..."

"Who?" Arthur squinted at the other.

"My conscious, Allan. He said he would fix me if I let him take over..." Arthur sat up slowly, looking at the American with suspicious eyes.

"Alfred, what do you mean fix you?"

"I mean fix this." He tucked some hair behind his ear and turned to side to give the brit a better view. Arthur gasped softly, leaning in to concentrate on it.

* * *

"What happened?"

Alfred shrugged. "It started to grow an hour after our argument. That's when Allan told me it was some stupid curse. He said he wanted control in return for fixing it, but if I knew what he was doing to you I would have never let him take over, I swear." His eyes were red, and so full of remorse, the brit couldn't help but pity him. However, from what he was gathering, Allan didn't sound like a subconscious, at least not one belonging to Alfred.

"I doesn't look like he did anything to it." Arthur said, and Alfred shook his head.

"It was much worse before, that's why he didn't come at night, or left early when he did. Before he completely took over, he told me to avoid you because you would be the first to notice it." He explained. It was making a little sense now, but Arthur was confused about when this subconscious began speaking to his mate.

"When did Allan start talking to you?" Arthur asked. Alfred pursed his lip, chuckling nervously.

"Remember when Elizabeta hit me with a pan?" Arthur shot his eyes open, and the narrowed them in annoyance.

"That was in the middle of December, Alfred, it's the end of March." He sighed, irritated. Does he realize that hearing voices after falling into a coma is a serious thing. "Why didn't you tell anyone? Does this voice talk to you often?"

"He promised to help me remember my past, and I didn't want anyone getting in the way of me figuring out why i can't remember shit. He doesn't come out too often, and when he does, he's just a voice, he never possessed me before." he explained. Arthur shook his head.

"How do you know you can trust him with your body? With the people around you?" Arthur scolded. Alfred bit his lip and looked down, disappointed in himself. "When has he spoken to you in the past and about what?" Alfred frowned.

"During Elizabeta's trial, he told me to keep her alive. When your brother had stabbed you and you fell into that coma, he told me to mercy kill you. And lastly, a couple of days ago about these" he said as he pointed to his ailment. Arthur sighed as he looked at them.

His ears were long and pointed, like an elf. Some curse.

"Did he explain what kind of curse it was?" Alfred shrugged.

"He called it a blood curse." Arthur grimaced. Of course it was.

"Is he here? Can you conjure him so I can talk to him?" he asked the prince. Alfred shrugged.

"Allan, you here?" He stopped and looked at the brit, shrugging. "I've never really called him before, he's usually there when i need him." He explained. Arthur nodded.

"Well, that's okay, he'll come out when he's bored and wants to emotionally abuse someone." he muttered. The American's ears twitched, and the prince scowled at what the brit had said.

"That's not funny."

"Sorry." The brit chuckled despite himself.

* * *

The two cuddle for the rest of the day, the American neglecting his work and the maids only coming in to wheel in and out food. Arthur could only eat pudding because it was the only thing that didn't hurt him, and that in itself made him sad. Alfred tried to eat light because he was aware of the other's inability to consume, but he himself was feeling quite ravished. Arthur had his nose buried into the crook of the other's neck for most of the day, satisfying his cravings. He kept the contact to sniffing, not too comfortable with the fact that the prince had another... entity?... inside of him.

"I love you." Arthur said for perhaps the 4th time that day. Alfred hummed.

"I love you too." He said, smiling slightly as he yawned. Arthur smiled softly as he pulled away. Alfred's eyes followed him, eyeing with worn out eyes, however Arthur momentarily ignored them. "Now that you seem settled and snug, Can you please tell me about what I walked in on this morning?" Alfred tried his best to keep his fear out of his eyes, but he couldn't hold it all back. Arthur nodded slowly, leaning back on the head board.

"Swear to me, Alfie, that you won't get upset." The brit was yelling at himself internally, his inner consciousness begging him not to tell the American. However, he didn't feel that sinking, ominous feeling in his gut, and he knew the outcome couldn't be that bad. The prince nodded wildly.

"I promise."

Arthur nodded, took deep breathes. "Well... I'll start from the beginning. Remember when you were knocked out by Elizabeta and I had that nightmare about being in a barn and couldn't get out? Well, that was my first supernatural event..." He let that sink in, and Alfred quirked his brow.

"Didn't you, not more that 7 hours ago, chastise me for not telling about my midnight encounters with otherworldly things?" He had a mocking tone, so the brit responded with a kissy face.

"Anyways, while in the nightmare, i was contacted by this cult about my mother and brothers and I being from a long line of witches. It never came up again until my brothers contacted me, and i read their note. I had no trouble reading it, but apparently, you couldn't understand it, you said it looked like rubbish." Alfred pouted before nodding his head, appearing to have remembered the event the brit was alluding to. "After i was stabbed and knocked unconscious, I communicated with my brother through the dreamscape, and he confirmed that i was magical, and that when i woke up..." Arthur's eyes widened.

The first thing you touch will absorb half of the curse...

"Fuck!" The brit spat. He did this to the American, the first thing he had grabbed was the prince's hands, causing him to fall into his coma. Alfred looked at him worriedly.

"What's wrong? What happened when you woke up?"

"The first thing i touched would be cursed..." He looked up slowly at the prince, waiting for him to catch on. It took about a whole minute of waiting before it finally dawned on the American, who gaped his mouth like a fish. Arthur continued. "I am so, so, so sorry. I didn't mean to grab you, you were trying to kill me and i had to stop you." He explained. The prince remained silent, just staring at the brit and biting his lip. "I'm sorry" he continued.

"Arthur..." The American started. He looked away from the brit, searching the room for answers. "I just... I am trying so hard to keep an open mind right now." He sounded stern and distant, like his thoughts. Arthur waited for the American to finish. "I... you're a witch... that's not something you hide from a mate. Other people yes, for your own safety, but for your mate, you should have trusted me enough with that information to tell me." He still wasn't looking at the brit. Was he mad again?

"I'm sorry, I really am. I guess we both kept dire secrets. But I promise to make things right. The second we land I'm going to study up on magic and reverse the curse or die trying." The brit said softly, the prince turning to look at him with narrow eyes.

"I don't think you can equivocate me hearing voices and you being of another species, Arthur." He shot, but he tried his best to sound calm. The brit, however, could feel the other's distress in his head. His mate was scared. "Secondly, I don't think you should go as far as dying over this blood curse, According to my conscious, left untreated it should disappear within the year, and since he's been working non stop, it'll be gone before we reach home. He also recommended that I should avoid impregnating you so i don't pass the curse on to our child. Apparently, the curse would be imbedded in his DNA and he would have to live the rest of his life with it." Arthur noticed the way the prince referred to his theoretical child as "Our's" and even went so far as to call it a boy. He then began to frown, remembering his situation.

"Don't need to worry about that, considering..." He trailed off, looking away from the prince in slight shame. Try as he might, he can't help but hate himself for not being able to produce his mate children. Yes, he knew his mother was a late bloomer and that he still had a chance, but after 20 years, the odds were against him. Alfred seemed to have pieced where the brit's thoughts were going so he pulled him in, kissing him softly on the temple.

"Arthur, I'm sorry, I forgot about... your condition. I just need you to understand that you shouldn't feel insecure about things you had no control over. I love you, whether or not you can give me kids." Alfred growled lightly in his ear for emphasis. The brit shuddered, but nodded, trying his best to suppress his doubts. He kissed the American back and wrapped around him, lying down.

"I love you too."

* * *

 **5 days later...**

Arthur didn't know how much of a blessing the curse really was until this very moment. The prince's panting was music to his ears; his moans and groans were sweet melodies that the brit craved more of.

"Arthur... please..." He moaned, shaking wildly. He was stuck to his spot, pinned under the brit, naked. His nipples erect, along with his member, which was weeping and in great need of contact. The brit sat comfortably on the American's stomach to be sure not to accidently grant him any pleasure. However, it wouldn't be the end of the world if he did succumb to the American's demands. His wild blue eyes would dilate even wider than it was now, and his wild hair would be stuck to his face in sweat. The prince was a sight for sore eyes, yet the brit knew not of another time he would be able to get the American into such a state of vulnerability.

The brit crouched down and continued his attack of nibbles and licks on the other's pointed ears, causing the other to cry out in ecstasy. He thrusted upward, and pulled at his arms, which were tied to the bed posts. Arthur began to grind his own erection on the prince's abdomen, swaying his hips back and forth just like the prince liked.

"Arthur, ah... ah... ahh...nngh..." The prince panted, turning his head desperately, kissing the brit roughly. The brit allowed the kiss, using his tongue to gain dominance and making the other moan, before breaking away and sucking on his neck. "Ah- Arthur... I don't know if I can hold back any longer. This rope you tied on my wrists, they won't hold for any longer... if I get out, would you let me... ah! Ah...nngh..." He couldn't finish the thought, too lost in pleasure. The brit, nevertheless, understood, and after a little while of consideration, accepted.

"If you get out" he purred in the other's ear, "I'll let you do whatever you want to me, so long as you prepare me for it." Arthur wasn't prepared for the snapping sound, the prince suddenly gripping his waist and pinning him to the bed. He moaned out when he felt Alfred's lips against his neck, and his hard member rubbing against his. The brit paid no attention to the heat rushing to his face, only watching as the prince slowly pulled away with a growl and spread his legs open. "I said you have to prepare me first..." The other only grunted, suddenly shoving his fingers into the other's mouth.

"Suck"

So suck Arthur did, and he did so passionately, licking each individual digit until it was coated in his saliva. The Prince then proceeded to insert one digit into his entrance, and the brit clenched up, this being the first time he had ever gone this far willingly. "Sorry" he mumbled as he relaxed his muscles, the alpha nodded and bending down to give the other a comforting kiss. One by one the American inserted another finger, causing the brit to moan and pant louder the closer they got to his prostate. "Ah...Ah! Ah! AH! NNGH!" He threw his head to the side, his heart skipping a beat when his special button was grazed. He whimpered wildly as he moved in time with the other's thrusts. Just a few more and...

"Alfred~"

His face was red as he went limp as he finished all over the other's stomach. He felt some drool dribble out of his mouth, but he was too tired to do anything about it. Eventually the prince stopped, leaning over the brit and kissing him passionately. "Do you wanna stop now, or continue for the rest of the night?" Arthur blushed. He was tired, but after he put the prince through torture it seemed only fare to let him have what he wants. And lets not forget the brit wants this too.

"Take me."

Alfred spread his legs open once more, and the brit moaned loudly at the pull. The American slowly inserted himself into the other's virgin hole, the 8 inches not even getting halfway through before the brit was groaning in pain.

"Wait! Wait! It hurts, it hurts give me a second..." Alfred bent over him and kissed him, whispering encouraging words.

"We can stop whenever you want, just tell me. You look so goddamn beautiful right now it hurts to stay still, but you're doing great, i love you and you're doing great babe." He sucked on his ear, causing the brit to jerk. He nodded soon after, telling the other to continue his descent.

The burn was outstanding, Arthur admit, it was a lot more painful than he thought it would be. However, after a few moments of pushing the American was fully sheathed, the brit feeling as if he had just been trampled by a bull. The alpha didn't move despite himself, so Arthur did his best to force himself to relax. "You can move." he finally said, wrapping his arms around the other's neck.

He started slow, taking care as to not tear too much. Arthur was in pain for the first few thrusts, the sensation still new to him. However, the brit soon found himself panting and moaning alongside his alpha, moving in time with his thrusts. Alfred with time began to pivot his waist, aiming for the englishman's sweetspot. Arthur let out a series of scream-like moans, whimpering into the other's chest, arching his back, begging the other to hold onto his waist and not his legs. Alfred gripped his hips and stopped thrusting, twisting the other onto his stomach and continuing to make love.

Arthur had a face full of pillow before he knew it and he struggled to prop himself up. The prince used the hips as leverage and applied much of his force there, gripping it with an iron like hold and using it to slam his cock into his cave. Arthur finally decided to let the his hands grip the sheets as his chest pressed against the mattress. He struggled to breathe a little, and he panted breathlessly. The brit jerked as he felt warm lips on his back. He moaned, shaking his arse up and down as the other thrusted in and out. The American gasped, the little movement making a big difference.

Arthur swore as he was lifted by the waist and put in another position, this time on Alfred's lap. "Alfie, stop moving me so much or I'll break." He didn't receive a response, just the American thrusting into him with new life and strength. "Ah...AH! NGH! AH! AHHH~"He wrapped his arms around his mate's shoulders and kissed him, whimpering into the other's ear. "Ah AH Alfie... Alfie... I'm gonna... I can't.." Arthur let his head rest on Alfred's shoulder. "Please hurry..." Arthur felt like his cock was about to explode and he wanted to cry. He let the tears fall, moaning until his throat was hoarse and his lungs were empty. After a few more pumps he came, screaming his lover's name.

Alfred came soon after, kissing his head and pulling him in for a hug. "Was that your first time?" He asked breathlessly, wiping away the tears "Did I hurt you?"The brit only nodded.

"Only a little, but as expected since you're so... large." He panted, kissing the other's cheek, blushing. "And yes, that was my first time..." He frowned a little, embarrassed for his lack of experience. Alfred smirk.

"That's what I wanted to hear. I don't know how I would've handled the thought of someone else doing that with you." He sounded possessive, with a hint of jealousy. Arthur couldn't help but smile, nodding his head in agreement.

"I'm tired, love." He said with a yawn, burying himself in the other's arms. "I wanna go to sleep."

"Okay, Love you."

"Love you too."


	20. Chapter 20

**The next morning...**

Arthur lazed around, a little sad that his mate had to leave for the day. He didn't want to move, his backside hurting him, and he was bored, making it worse. He had Chancy, who had made his appearance after 8 days of absence. Arthur made it known that he was angry at the Frenchman, who did his best to make up for it. He was currently doing the laundry, blushing as he came across the brit's soiled sheets. Blood and cum covered the white fabric, and Chancy just tried to hide his embarrassment.

When he was done, washing and hanging them, he returned to the brit's clean bed, flicking the brit's cheek with his finger. Arthur smiled softly, pulling the other into a tight hug and pinning him to the bed playfully. Chancy giggled, winced when he moved his hips, and giggled again, but this time nervously. Arthur narrowed his eyes at the other as he let go, pulling away to get a better look at him. He looked like his normal self, but his eyes were tired and he wore a black oversized, like really oversized, turtleneck sweater. Yes the weather had caught up to them and it now felt like the middle of March, but he was inside now and he didn't take it off. Hmmm...

The brit tugged on the hem of the frenchman's sweater and pulled it up over his head, ignoring the other's yelp. Arthur wouldn't say he was surprised when he saw the other was covered in hickeys. Chancy blushed, scooting away from the brit in mild anger for undressing him as rudely as he had. Arthur crawled after him and checked his neck, this time shocked to see a bite mark on his neck. He was claimed?! Wait... then that explains why he was out, he was in heat. The brit suddenly felt bad for being mad at his friend, the other blond having no choice. But who claimed him?

Just then Davie holding baby Geoffrey and Matthew walked through the door, talking about who knows what before stopping once their eyes landed on the scene before them. Chancy blushed and smiled before climbing off of the bed carefully. Matthew smiled and approached Arthur as the frenchman walked elegantly to Davie, who, when they were close enough, kissed the smaller on the lips. Arthur's eye twitched in realization. DAVIE!? Chancy kissed back hesitantly before mumbling something and Davie nodding, handing the baby to his mate. DAVIE!?

Arthur could hardly wrap his mind around it. He blinked wildly as the American prince sat down beside him, smirking. "I couldn't believe it either." Matthew said, patting the brit on the shoulder. Arthur didn't want to seem rude, but he just... how?

"How... I mean... what? " He couldn't speak. His sweet innocent, independent Chancy was claimed by Davie?! Davie pursed his lips in mild discomfort before walking over to the closet, pulling out one of Arthur's sweaters and handing it to Chancy. The 2nd in command put it on with a little difficulty, the brit without a doubt smaller than him. Once on, the frenchman poked at his stomach, frowning. Davie sighed.

"Arthur, I promise to tell you everything and the whole love story but do you mind throwing back my sweater, he feels better in it." Arthur tossed it to him. "Thank you." He proceeded to remove Arthur's shirt and pulled his sweater over Chancy head. That explained why the sweater was so large, but the brit felt the smaller shirt looked better on Chancy. Davie smiled, causing Chancy to smile back at him,and the three nervously made their way to Arthur's bed. Matthew hummed.

"Why don't you tell us what happened Davie?" He said with a teasing voice. Davie scowled at him playfully before nodding.

"Well, it all started on the day we met." Arthur scoffed, albeit rudely. Chancy looked up from the baby in his hands to look at him with pained eyes, and Davie glared at him. Matthew chuckled as Arthur apologized quickly. Davie accepted it and continued. "After the dispute for the room, we began to communicate as best we could, considering he can't speak english and I can barely speak french. Personally, I thought our interactions would stay at a minimum because of the language barrier, but we started bonding over Geoffrey and sooner or later we were almost inseparable, even when geoffrey was asleep. I started trying to teach him english, he started to teach me French, and we would stay with each other for hours, sometimes forgetting to sleep." He said with a soft smile. Chancy played with baby Geoffrey while Davie spoke, occasionally looking at him with warm eyes.

"About two weeks ago, Chancy woke me up and led me outside. I didn't know what for, and even as he tried to explain, I could only make out a few words. He kept on repeating it, but i finally got the jist of it when he kissed me."He said with a blush. "It must have been some sort of confession. Things obviously got heated, the feelings rather mutual, and we... uh..." He fumbled with his words, and Arthur smiled, knowing what he meant.

"You had sex on the deck of the ship? How romantic." He said with a soft sigh. Davie blushed again, violet eyes looking down, brownish-blond hair covering his eyes.

"Uh, yeah. Then, a few days later, Chancy went into heat and needed a private place for safety reasons of course. He switched with John for the time being. I believe it was on his second day when Francis called me aside, and talked to me about how much Chancy was in pain, and that i had to brew something up for him. I mixed up a pain reliever to help with his cramps and he pretty much jumped me the moment i walked into his room. He was crying and he was scared, and he pretty much told me that he... didn't want to be alone this heat. Of course I left and consulted both Francis and Alfred about it, and Francis was okay with it. Alfred, however, was against it because he was afraid Chancy was just saying it out of the heat of the moment. But we had sex earlier, so I was pretty sure he was okay with it.

"I ended up joining him, and two days in I went into rut, so that was an additional four days of sex, and somewhere in the eight days I claimed him and... yeah." Geoffrey giggled loudly, finding Chancy's kisses ticklish. Davie smiled warmly, tucking a loose brown curl behind the baby's ear. Arthur couldn't help but smile at the scene, the three of them looking like a happy family.

"Well," Arthur said, rubbing his hands together. "I'm happy for you guys, really I am... but does Alfred know?" Davie looked up at him with worried eyes.

"I tried to hint it to him, but Chancy's too afraid to come out to him" he said quickly, causing Chancy to look up at him curiously. Arthur doubted it was Chancy who was afraid, but why press it, that detail doesn't matter. "I was kinda wondering if you would help-"

"With what? Your web of lies?" A cold voice interrupted him, the group snapping their eyes to the sneaky prince. Alfred had his lips pursed as he paced back and forth silently. How did he get there? How long has he been there? Davie sighed and stood up, walking slowly towards the prince, stopping about a yard away.

"No... Just with breaking the news to you without offending you." He answered, and Arthur held his breath. FRom the looks in the prince's eyes he was furious, the ocean blue orbs flickering with rage. Alfred sighed.

"What offends me is not your choice of disregarding my order, but hiding the fact that you scored yourself a ten." The prince slowly broke into a smile as the english speakers widened their eyes in realization, Arthur scoffing in amusement. Davie visibly relaxed, pulling the other into a manly hug. "Now, introduce me formally, you know, not as your king, but as your good ol' buddy!" He playfully nudged the knight's shoulder. Davie nodded, walking over to Chancy, who shrunk behind the baby in his arms.

"Bonjour, je suis Chancy. Je suis désolé de ne pas vous informer de ma relation avec votre ami plus tôt, mais j'espère que vous pouvez regarder passé que nous sommes tenus de devoir être autour de chacun souvent. Je promets, je n'essaierai pas d'empiéter sur ce que vous deux peut avoir, je suis juste le..." Chancy started, cut off by Matthew's laugh.

"What did he say?" Arthur asked.

"In short," Matthew straightened his clothes. "He said that he apologizes for not telling Alfred about his relationship with Davie, and that he won't encroach on his... territory." Alfred raised his eyebrows.

"Well," the prince started. "Tell him that he's welcome on my territory whenever he wants, considering he'll be living there from now on." He didn't seem gleeful anymore, and he looked down coldly at the frenchman.

"Vous êtes les bienvenus à tout moment, puisque vous y resterez un moment." Matthew translated. Chancy looked up at the prince with narrowed eyes.

"Je le ferai aussi longtemps que je pourrai, mais je vais devoir partir une fois que mes hommes partiront."He spoke softly, casting his eyes to the side. There was an awkward silence when Matthew didn't translate, the group just eyeing the other prince warily.

"Matthew, say something." Alfred demanded. Matthew frowned.

"He said he'll stay as long as his fleet." There was again, a moment of silence.

"You're what?" Davie asked this time, eyes wide and slightly confused. Chancy wouldn't look him in the eye. He repeated himself and spoke some more, and Matthew cleared it up.

"He has a contract that he has to live by. He says he loves you and that if he could stay he would, but he'll have to go when his men leave."

"Wait, wait, wait...What's thepoint of mating if you won't stay, if you don't _fucking_ commit?!" Davie grabbed Chancy by the shoulder, and the frenchman flinched before looking at the American with irritated eyes. Arthur knew this would end ugly.

"Davie, don't do that to him! Just hear him out and try to convince him otherwise." He tried to reason, but he was cast aside.

"Chancy" Davie growled. Chancy looked up at Matthew, who translated for him. Chancy bit his lip and leaned in slightly toward his mate, eyeing him warily.

"Je m'engage, je resterai fidèle pendant mon absence. Mon contrat sera terminé dans quelques mois, en fonction de combien de temps nous restons dans les états que nous serons seulement à part pour quelques semaines." He whispered back, just barely loud enough for the bilingual prince to get.

"He said that he only has a few months left in his contract, and depending on how long he stays in America, he'll only be gone for a few weeks. He swears he'll be faithful." Davie scoffed, pulling away.

"I'm not worried about you being faithful, I'm worried about you not being... here, with me. Why did you... we... if you knew you weren't going to stay? I'm just confused about your ulterior motives here." Davie looked extremely stressed, and Arthur couldn't help but feel bad for him. He has been saving himself for the one person he wanted to be with forever, and now that he's met him, he has to separate from him because his mate is choosing his career. Arthur couldn't help but find it selfish, but maybe Chancy does have a good reason. Matthew translated what Davie had said, and Chancy set the child down on the bed.

"Je n'ai pas d'arrière-pensées pour m'accoupler avec vous! Je me suis accouplé parce que je savais que je vous aimais et je ne voulais pas être seul ou avec quelqu'un d'autre. Je ne comprends pas pourquoi vous êtes si bouleversé, pire scénario que je vais être allé pendant 5 mois, y compris le temps de voyage. Je ne vous abandonnerai pas, je serai parti pour un petit moment." He stood up, walking away from the bed and the small group of Americans.

"He said that he has no ulterior motives and he mated with you because he loves you. He says worst case scenario he'll be gone for 5 months including travel time." Matthew translated, and Davie answered.

"I love you too, but we just mated we can't just separate. 5 months is a long time to be apart... unless I go with you." Matthew translated to Chancy, who turned to face his mate with guilty eyes.

"Non, je ne veux pas vous forcer loin de votre maison ... mais j'admets, ça faciliterait les choses ... et ce ne serait que cinq mois." Chancy walked over to Davie, a soft smile on his lips.

"He said he doesn't want to force you into leaving your home, but he admits that you going to France with him for the remaining 5 months would be easier on him." This time Alfred answered.

"I'm not losing my best knight over this, I don't care if it's for 5 days, weeks or months, he's not leaving." He deadpanned. Davie opened his mouth to challenge him, but Alfred glared at him. "You, sir, are not to say another word." Davie sighed angrily, but didn't speak. The American approached Chancy, stopping a mere 6 inches from his face. "I'm giving you two options, you quit and stay with Davie in the capitol, or you keep your job and have your title as his mate revoked." Matthew frowned.

"Alfred... that's a bit unreasonable don't you think."

"Just tell him." He replied. Arthur paid close attention to Chancy's face as Matthew told him what Alfred had said, and felt his heart break when he saw the fear in his eyes before he narrowed them.

"Vous ne pouvez pas faire ça. C'est décidé entre copains et Davie ne ferait pas ça." He looked over at Davie worried eyes, and Davie shot him a reassuring smile.

"He said only Davie can make that decision." Matthew said. Alfred smirked.

"Obviously you don't know what it's like in the states. As king I get to annul any marriage, and any claim. I may need some permission, but it doesn't need to come from Davie, I can just get it from my mother." He growled lowly, and Davie growled at him, finally stepping between him and his mate.

"You can annul it legally, but I can just go and reclaim him in another country." Davie spat, stroking Chancy's cheek in an attempt to comfort him. Arthur shook his head.

"Not in France, and if you did, he would lose his job. And since he'll just end up losing his job, what's the point of going through all of that trouble, just stay in the states." He said frowning, glaring at his mate for coming up with something so petty on the spot. Matthew reiterated everything back to Chancy. The beautiful blonde scowled at the prince before yelling at Davie.

"Est-ce que vous allez le laisser me parler comme ça? Donc ta grosse solution est de me faire virer?! Vous vivez sur une île jouant avec des fleurs depuis trois ans, mais tout ce que je demande est un peu de temps et de patience et vous ne me donnerez pas ça? Non! Mais tu me donnes un putain d'ultimatum entre perdre mon emploi ou te perdre!" Matthew grimaced, but translated anyway.

"He basically finds it fucked up that you'll allow Alfred to talk him like that, and that you're so selfish for making him choose between you and his career."

Davie grabbed his wrist, and the frenchman tugged away, glaring at him. "Ne me touchez pas. J'ai un ultimatum pour vous. Viens en France avec moi pour le reste de mon contrat et retourne aux États ensemble, ou jamais, et je veux dire jamais, me parler à nouveau."

"You have the choice between staying with him for the remainder of his contract and returning to the states together to start a family when it's over, or never talk to him again." Matthew said silently, and Arthur winced, having a feeling Chancy won't like his mates answer. Davie bit his lip, pulling away from his mate.

"I swear the one fucking time I... Ugh!" he walks out of the room, teary eyed and angry. Chancy follows seconds later, leaving Geoffrey on the bed, calling out for him. Arthur stands up to follow, knowing things would only get worse, and Alfred holds open the door for the smaller people.

* * *

Arthur's been looking for half an hour for any sign of Davie or Chancy, and he was beginning to think they went overboard.

"Arthur, I found them." Alfred approached him with Geoffrey in his arms. "They're in the storage hold."

It took a little while to reach the storage hold, but Arthur sighed relieved when he walked in and Chancy wasn't dead, but instead being showered in loving kisses by the knight. Francis was standing nearby, looking proud in himself for something. Arthur approached him. "What did you do?" Francis smiled.

"I simply placed Chancy as my french ambassador to be active in..." he looked at his wrist for the time, even though he wasn't wearing a watch. "4 weeks, and he'll be stationed in America until further notice." He said with a sad sigh. Arthur smiled.

"We'll take care of him."

"I know, but I've known Chancy for years, it'll be weird replacing him." He smirked. "But I'm glad he's happy. I was tired of watching him sexually starve himself. Davie's cute too, so its not like I'm giving him off to a troll." He smiled. "He's better than I ever thought Chancy would get. Chancy has surprisingly low standards and I feared that he would go for anyone who was remotely attractive. How old's Davie again?"

"24"

"Ah, so he likes older men."

" I always thought he was in his late twenties because he was so established. Don't get me wrong, he looks gorgeous and beautiful, and his face doesn't look a day over 20, but his... figure is a tad mature. How old's Chancy?" Arthur raised his eyebrows. Francis shrugged.

"About 22 years old. His birthday is in August." He yawned and stretched like a cat. "I'm gonna nap now." He walked away without another word. Arthur shrugged, walking over to Chancy and Davie, who were still showering each other with affectionate kisses. They were joined by a smiling baby, who Alfred handed over to them. Chancy scooped Geoffrey up and kissed him lightly.

"Bébé Geoffrey, nous allons être ensemble pour toujours. Je t'aime tellement, j'ai hâte de t'apprendre à lire et à écrire en français" He smiled, Matthew chuckling softly.

" Well, he can't wait to learn French either, but you'll have to teach him english first though, since he's gonna be living in the U.S" He advised. Davie stood up, scooping the Frenchman into his arms, who held onto the baby. Chancy blushed as he was carried off.

* * *

 **10 days later...**

 _WAAHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH_

"Jesus Christ, make him stop!" Arthur groaned as he exited the bathroom, sighing in annoyance when he saw Davie struggling to calm Geoffrey. The baby hasn't cried in weeks, and it was bliss up until Chancy had to start training for his new role as French Ambassador while still functioning as 2nd in command. He was completely swamped, only having a few hours to spend with his mate and the now 2 month old. This has lead to Geoffrey being unhappy and ill tempered. The slightest thing being able to piss him off and send him into a crying fit. Davie muttered something as he stood up, bouncing the child lightly.

"You're too hostile, he doesn't like it when you're around." Davie deadpanned, and Arthur scowled. Davie hasn't been himself lately either. He was irritable and stressed out. He'd say it was because he was tired all the time, and that may be a partial factor, but Arthur knew his shift in character had something to do with Chancy neglecting him.

"Then why are you in my room?" Arthur shot back, retreating back into the bathroom. He could hear Davie sigh over the crying baby.

"Are you hungry, buddy?" He asked in a squeaky voice. Geoffrey, of course, didn't answer and just continued to cry. Davie called out to Arthur. "I'm gonna find him some food."

"Alright, take care." Arthur called back, followed by a the door closing and the sound of the baby crying fading. He left the bathroom and sat on his bed, thanking god for the silence. "When's Chancy coming back? I can't take this anymore." Take what? The monotony, the crying babies, the lack of companionship? All of the above. The brit was landing soon, the New York harbor 3 days away. From there they will ride a horse drawn carriage to Maryland. Preparations are already being made for their arrival, but hastily because they they are 2 months too early. They were scheduled to arrive a week before the coronation, but it is the beginning of April and they are less than 72 hours away.

Everyone is excited, but Arthur.

However he kept his peace, not wanting to offend anyone.

There was a knock on the door, ripping the brit from his thoughts. "Come in." He called and the door creaked open to reveal an exhausted Chancy. His silky long blond hair was no longer kempt but instead wrapped in a messy bun. He had dark circles under his eyes, which were red and puffy, and his soft lips were dry and chapped. He closed the door behind him softly, walked in wordlessly, and flopped down on the bed beside Arthur. The 2nd in Command's face was shiny and slightly tanned, his baby hairs sticking to his forehead with sweat. He looked like a wreck.

Arthur blew out the candle closest to Chancy and pulled a blanket over him. The blond muttered something in French, probably a thank you, turning away from the brit and getting settled in. Arthur pulled out a book and read silently, finding this behaviour from Chancy a little off putting. He was always so uplifting even when he was tired, but he didn't seem like himself. He didn't even call Arthur _Petol_. Maybe something happened to him?

" _Are you okay?_ " Arthur asked quietly as to not scare his companion. For a while it was silent, and the brit figured it was because the other had already fallen asleep.

" _Yes_."

Arthur jumped, not expecting the reply, especially in english. It's been 10 days since they've actually had any time together, and as far as Arthur remembered, Chancy has only said one word in english, Petal, and even then he wouldn't say it right. " _Are you sure?_ "

" _Yes_." He replied again, a little robotically.

" _Geoffrey misses you._ " Arthur said suddenly, causing the frenchman to slowly turn around to face him. In the dim light Chancy face was still gorgeous, but it also had this almost unnerving, ominous... dare he say... sinister edge to it.

" _Yes, I know, I could hear him crying for me_." He said dryly, narrowing his eyes at the Brit. " _Grumpy friend, when did you learn how to speak French?_ " Arthur stared at the blond in confusion. He doesn't know how to speak french.

"What are you talking about? You're the one speaking fluent English." Arthur shot back. Chancy sat up and rubbed his eyes.

" _I can barely say the good morning in english, how am I suddenly speaking it now?_ " He stretched like a cat and relit the candle. " _You're the one speaking French, petal."_ Arthur's eyes widened, looking around the room for an explanation. What the fuck! First being dragged into the mirror, and now speaking French?!

 _"But... how is this possible? I can barely ask for water in French!"_ Chancy shrugged at him.

" _Where are you from?"_ He asked nonchalantly. How can he be so calm?!

" _Why does that matter?! How the hell are we communicating!?_ " Arthur slammed his book closed. Chancy eyed him warily.

" _Depending on where you are from, I could determine the French population there and the likelihood of you being exposed to French vocabulary. Then, from there I would ask you about your mental health, memory capacity, and whether or not you've had any traumas recently to determine whether or not all of the French words you were exposed to were locked away in your subconscious, and brought to the surface for practical reasons._ " Arthur blinked at him wildly. Well... huh?

" _Okay. Uh, I'm from Lancashire."_ He answered, though that was a lie. However, Arthur was almost positive that it had something to do with his magical heritage. Maybe omnilingualism was apart of the deal?

Chancy shook his head. _"There's a small French population there, but it's a pale of settlement of sorts, they interact with no one but themselves._ " He rubbed his eyes.

 _"Maybe it's a miracle._ " Arthur suggested, and Chancy turned to him skeptically.

 _"Or maybe this is just a bizarre dream._ " He yawned and lied back down, turning away from the brit.

" _What?_ " He can't seriously leave me like this. " _This isn't a dream!?_ " Yet Chacy still ignored him.

" _This is a dream, and when I wake up, you'll be speaking english, my baby won't be crying, and Davie would have found something for my baby to eat."_ He said sharply. It didn't sound like he was in for continuing the conversation with the brit. Soon soft snores drifted to his ears and he sighed, annoyed, he closed his eyes, praying that he too would wake up to everything Chancy had prophesied.

* * *

Arthur woke up to harsh whispers, and a loud slap. He sat up abruptly, eyes wide and burning. WHo slapped what?

Davie sat on the other side of the bed dazed, clutching his cheek in confusion. Chancy had a hand over his mouth in shock of what he undoubtedly did, his left hand, the obvious culprit, shaking in disbelief. The couple stared at each other for what seemed like hours until Davie cleared his throat.

"Fine, I'll go then." He said softly, standing up. Chancy grabbed at his wrist but Davie shook them off, leaving the room and closing the door silently. Chancy stared at the door for a few moments before groaning, looking at his hand in disgust. With one more dramatic groan he plopped down on the bed, burying his face in the pillow.

"What was that?" Arthur whispered, and Chancy jumped, losing balance and falling off of the bed. He landed with a concerning thump and Arthur swore he saw his head hit the night stand. "Christ, are you okay?" He said as he crawled onto the other side of the bed, peering over the edge to check on his friend. Chancy sported a pained expression, hand clutching his head and cheeks flushed. He opened his eyes and closed it shortly after, groaning as he rolled onto his side. "Chancy?"

"Je ne peux pas sentir ma hanche." He groaned out as he tried to pick himself up. Arthur frowned. Guess he can't understand French anymore. He leaped off the bed and made his way to his friend, helping him up. Chancy winced but accepted the help, repeated what he said earlier multiple times.

"I don't understand" Arthur said with a huff when he finally got the frenchman in his bed. "Can you act out what hurts?" he asked, squeezing random parts of Chancy's body, looking for a negative response. When he squeezed his upper thigh Chancy jolted and cried out, slapping the brit's hand away. Arthur stared at him as the other panted. He must have been saying his hip hurt. Chancy's eyes blown out and jaw clench painted a number of possibilities for Arthur. Try and find an ice pack, or call for help. He debated for a while internally before Chancy spoke.

"Davie?" What? Arthur looked at the frenchman. Did he really hit his head that hard that he thinks he's Davie.

"No, I'm Arthur." He corrected and Chancy rolled his eyes, pointing at the door before Chanting Davie's name. "OH! Do you want me to get Davie?" he asked, and Chancy just continued his behavior, not understanding the brit. "Well, okay?" He was going to take that as a yes. He got up and left the room, closing the chamber door behind him in search of a doctor, aka, Davie.

He smiled at the soldiers as he walked passed them, thanking god when he spotted Davie talking to Alfred over something work related. They were crouched down on the deck, hunched over a map, pointing. "We'll dock the ship here, and I'll lead the half the troops by land through the country and into the capital. You'll continue with the rest of the troop near the coast and land at the Capital port and... Oh, hey babe! What's up?" Alfred smiled goofily at him, Arthur blowing a kissy face at him in return.

"I... Chancy...uh...fell and can't move his leg very well." He didn't want to mention why he fell, so he awkwardly left it out. Alfred looked at Davie, who still sported a red mark on his cheek.

"Oh." Davie said as he stood up, stretching. "Alright, I'm coming." He sounded quite lackadaisical, walking to the prince's bed chamber. Davie walked in, slightly annoyed at being interrupted and, perhaps, being slapped. Chancy appeared unconscious but his hand still cradled his head, his breathing slightly labored. Davie bit his lip, obviously concerned, placing a hand on his forehead. Chancy jolted, opening his eyes in shock and groaning in pain.

"Davie?" He sounded awful. He just fell, why did he sound like he was dying? He didn't mean to scare him off of the bed, he just freaked out! How was he suppose to know he was going to spasm?! Arthur felt guilt slowly creep into his heart as Davie removed Chancy's hand from his head. The knight scowled at the bruise on his crown and turned to the brit with narrowed eyes.

"What did you say happened to him?" He caressed Chancy's face in an attempt to soothe a little of his discomfort. Arthur visibly gulped.

"Uhh, I woke up from my nap and saw him staring at the door." He started thinking of ways to make it seem like it wasn't his fault, but he decided to tell the truth in the end. "When I asked him what was wrong, he flung himself off of the bed and hit his head, landing on his hip." Davie nodded, looking down at his mate with an amused smile.

"Vous devriez essayer d'être plus prudent la prochaine fois, ou vous perdrez votre tête." Chancy, despite himself, smiled.

"Ma jambe me fait mal, pouvez-vous la réparer" he asked, looking down at his leg. Davie touched his hip and watched as Chancy groaned in pain. Davie pulled out a dagger and used it to rip the pants by the hip. Arthur winced. The skin was bright red but there was no doubt that it would be blue and black the next day. There was also a large lump, the size of a fist jutting up that made Arthur want to puke.

"What the fuck is that?" He spat, causing Chancy to look down himself. He gasped, cursed, and cried out in french. Davie hushed his mate before turning to Arthur.

"I think his bone slipped from his socket." he deadpanned. "I'll need your help to pop it back in."

What? No, no, no, no, "No!" Arthur said, and Davie glared at him.

"He needs your help and you're saying no?!"

"UGHHH!"He walked over, gagging. "What do I do?"

"Just hold him down, while I pull on it." He ordered. Arthur grabbed Chancy's shoulders, who looked up at him with worried eyes. Arthur smiled reassuringly at the frenchman, who smiled back, albeit weakly. "On the count of three." Arthur nodded.

" Bonne chance baiser?" Chancy mumbled, Davie smiling sheepishly. He leaned over and kissed Chancy on the cheek before looking at Arthur.

"He wants a good luck kiss." The brit nodded and kissed Chancy's forehead before going back to ready position. "Alright" Davie declared. "Three...two...one!" He began to slowly pull Chancy's leg by the ankle, The Frenchman digging his fingernails into the wrists of the brit who held down his shoulders. The Frenchman screamed in pain, crying out with tears streaming down his cheeks. Arthur wanted to tell Chancy to relax but the omega was surprisingly strong, the brit being forced to use most of his body weight to pin the other down. With a sickening pop the bone slipped into place, Chancy sighing in relief and relaxing considerably. Davie kissed the bruised hip before kissing Chancy on the cheek.

Arthur let go, sighing and climbing off of the bed. He stretched, and turned to the couple, smirking at how Chancy caressed the other's cheek in an apology, and Davie taking that hand and kissing it. Arthur turned to leave, figuring they needed their alone time. He was halfway to the door when he heard crying. It was getting louder, and it took Arthur a moment before he realized it was getting closer. By the pitch he could tell it was Geoffrey, and Arthur groaned loudly. He pulled the door open to reveal a disgruntled Francis carrying the child, who just walked in without saying a word, scanning the room for Davie.

"Here, take the child, I have work to do." He handed the infant to the knight. "He's eaten already." The king added before turning to Chancy. "You look awful. Votre pause se termine en 30 minutes." Davie bounced the baby before addressing the king.

"I personally don't think he'll be ready to work in thirty minutes. He hit his head and dislocated his hip bone, and it would be best for him to receive a few hours of sleep." Davie eventually got the child to settle down, the infant resorting to mumbling unhappily in his father's chest... well caretaker, Arthur corrected himself. However it's easy to forget the two aren't related, seeing that the mother, who as of right now, refuses to spend time with the baby except for feeding times. The child sleeps with Davie and Chancy who had somehow convinced the harold to give them his room for the remainder of the trip. Chancy bathes him, changes him, and sings to him while David plays with him, dresses him, and watches him throughout the day. Now that Arthur thought about it, he did hear Chancy refer to Geoffrey as his baby, and the brit had no difficulty seeing Chancy as his mother.

"Fine." The Francis said with a shrug. "You're the doctor." He left the room, pinching Arthur's arm on the way out. That bloody frog! Davie walked to the other side of the bed and sat on it, passing his mate the baby. Chancy took the child with a smile, bringing the baby into his chest and kissing his forehead.

"J'espère que vous vous comportez." He smiled as Geoffrey began to hiccup, tilting him over and patting his back, burping him. Davie shrugged a little bit.

"He wasn't the best behaved but he missed you so I let it slide." Arthur scoffed, leaving before the knight could respond.


	21. Chapter 21

**3 days later... Alfred POV**

The ship was bustling as everyone packed up there things, excited to dock the boat and get off of the ship. The plan went like this: They were docking at the New York harbor and they all would stay the night at some hotel or lodge. After a day or two, they would separate. Alfred, Chancy, Matthew and Arthur will lead about half of the people on board by land while Davie and Francis lead half of the people on the boat by sea. Davie will get to the capitol before Alfred and prepare the accommodations for the palace's unexpected guests. Alfred will stroll in with Matthew, Arthur, and Chancy roughly a week after Davie and Francis arrives.

From there everything, Alfred guessed, was up to fate. Whether introductions went smoothly, was up to god and Alfred had faith that Jesus wouldn't damn his relationship with his mate. Speaking of his mate, where was he? Alfred hadn't seen him since the morning. Hopefully he's not crying or something, the prince wouldn't know how to cheer him up. He walked past some soldiers and walked into his chamber, which was empty. Well, alright, maybe he's with Chancy. He walked down the stairs deeper into the ship and knocked on Davie's door.

"Who is it?" Davie called, and Alfred answered. "Oh, come in then." Alfred walked in and scanned the room for his mate. He payed little attention to Chancy singing to the baby as he packed for the journey, probably still a little upset that he couldn't stay with Davie and his child. However, he was second in command of the French soldiers meaning he knew how to communicate with them properly and lead them effectively, Alfred unsure if he could do any of that. The prince didn't want to separate them, he was quite indifferent to their relationship, but he needed Chancy for practical reasons. If Matthew knew how to lead the men, Alfred would have gladly just taken him, but his brother can't, so he took someone who could.

"Have you seen Arthur?" He deadpanned as he found the brit to be nowhere in sight. Davie shrugged, repeating the question in French, which surprised the prince at how fast his friend was learning the language. Chancy paused for a second, thinking, and then responding in gibberish, the knight somehow understanding and translating it to Alfred.

"He left about 30 minutes ago to go back to his room. Why didn't you check there first?" He teased, and Alfred stuck his tongue out.

"I did go there first, it was empty." Davie frowned thinking.

"Maybe he's avoiding you. Or maybe your mate just jumped off of the boat to avoid meeting your mother." Davie joked as he continued to fold his clothes. Alfred scowled at him.

"Shut up, before I throw yours overboard." Davie feigned offense to the comment before laughing.

"Maybe you didn't look hard enough. Go back and check." Alfred shook his head.

"He wasn't there, Davie, he lied to you." Alfred scratched his head. Why did he lie to them? Where the hell is he. He walked out of the room humming to himself as he tried to think of anyplace on the steamship he would be hiding. The storage hold? Nah, he hated how damp it was. The deck? Alfred was just there he would have seen him. The engine room and the boiler room was off limits to the brit, Alfred had told him it was too dangerous. Where could he be?

 _Maybe he did jump overboard.._.

Alfred snarled before looking around for anyone. He saw a few soldiers talking to each other, but they paid him no mind, so the coast was practically clear. "You again. Didn't I tell you not to show your face around here anymore? If i could I would kill you." He muttered, making his way to his private chamber.

 _Ahh come on! You told me to fix you up and I was, not my fault I needed concentration and your mate wanted attention. That's your job, not mine..._

Alfred growled, walking faster to his room, ignoring the soldiers who waved at him. "Shut your fucking mouth. My ears are still pointed you fucking piece of..."

 _You didn't mind them being there when you bedded your mate._ He interrupted. _Don't act like the ears still being here is such a bad thing now that the fun's over..._

Alfred huffed, pulling open his door and closing it softly. He had a point but Alfred wasn't gonna let the way he treated Arthur slide. "I don't care if you saw me bed him, you also saw the emotional pain you were putting him through and if you think for a second that you have the right to just start talking to me again, you have another thing coming." the prince growled, and there was no response. The American hummed, satisfied, only to have his soul jump out of his chest as he heard a voice clear from behind him. Alfred turned slowly to find Arthur naked and wet near the bed, patting himself dry. Huh, he must have been taking a bath when i walked in the first time.

"Were you talking to Allan?" The brit rubbed the towel through his hair, eyeing the prince with worried eyes.

 _He knows about me?_

"Yes" The prince answered, to both of them really. The Englishman pursed his lips.

"Can he hear me?" He asked, and Alfred nodded. "Oh, okay. I guess I'll speak to him and you tell me what he says." Arthur said, walking his packed bag and pulling out a clean gray blouse and dark brown trousers. Alfred heard his conscious scoff.

 _What the hell is he going on about?_

"What do you mean speak to him?" Alfred asked. Arthur tugged the shirt over his head.

"I'm going to ask a series of questions, and he's going to respond. Unless, of course, he doesn't want to." He answered, now pulling on some underwear. He quickly added, "Can he see me?"tugging the hem of his shirt down past his crotch as a blush swept across his face. Alfred shrugged and Allan snickered.

 _Yes, and I enjoyed the show..._

Alfred rolled his eyes. "No" he lied. He figured there was no point in telling him because it would only cause unnecessary panic in his mate. Arthur sighed relieved, pulling up his pants. "What do you wanna ask first?" Arthur bit his lip.

"How old are you?" He asked.

 _Uhhh... why does that matter?_

"He asked why does that matter." Alfred responded and Arthur quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, I just want to know, can he please answer the question?"

 _I don't know... how old are you?_

"19" Alfred said out loud, and Arthur nodded, believing it was his answer.

"What's your earliest memory?" He asked, and Alfred felt the world spin as Allan hummed loudly in his head, the action vibrating the prince's skull.

 _I... well that's a tough one. Perhaps the cries you made when you were born, yeah. They were shrill and loud. I remember the blood we were covered in, the red curtains, the red sheets, and you mother begging to see us..._

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows as he summed it up. "He remembers my birth." Arthur nodded.

"What's the last thing you remember before you were locked away?'"

 _Falling..._

The prince narrowed his eyes. "Falling." Arthur asked for analysis.

 _Falling off of something, out of something... I don't know. But I do remember the rush of wind against our face and landing head first from high up..._

Alfred nodded, it making sense now. "He remembers me falling from high up and landing head first." The brit furrowed his eyebrows.

"Do you remember that drop?" He asked, and Alfred shook his head. "And is Allan sure that was the last thing he remembered?"

 _Of course I heard screaming afterwards, and yelling, and our parents arguing with one another. Martha's voice was the last thing I heard._

Alfred shook his head. "Martha's voice is the last thing he heard." Arthur scratched his head.

"Do you know where you were when you fell? Are there any landmarks you can think of that were there?"

 _No..._

"NO" Alfred said, and Arthur, once again pursed his lips.

"Ok, last question. Do you know how old you were when it happened?"

 _Around 9 or 10..._

"Around nine or ten." Alfred answered.

"Are you sure that was the last memory?"

 _Yes._

"Yes" Alfred confirmed.

"Alright, thank you." The englishman said with a bow, pulling on some socks. Alfred felt Allan's presence fade as he approached Arthur, and by the time he reached his side the entity was gone. "Alfred, is he gone?" the brit asked quietly. The prince nodded. "I have a few questions for you now, if that's alright?"

"Shoot" Alfred said with a shrug, but in reality his heart was beating fast and his mind was racing. Was his witch radar going off of the charts?!

"You said you couldn't remember anything before 11 years old, right? LIke anything at all?"

"I can't remember anything at all."

"Did they tell you about how long you were unconscious when you woke up in the infirmary with Davie? I know it was a long time ago, but try to remember." He urged, lacing up his thick black leather boots.

"I was unconscious for no more than 2 weeks, and I woke up three months before my 12th birthday." Alfred recited. That information for the bulk of Alfred's teen years had been put on repeat, as if it would summon some answers. Arthur nodded.

"Then why was his last memory of something that happened at least almost 2 years before your first memory?" Alfred shrugged, biting his lip. The timeline didn't add up. "Are you sure you can't remember anything?"

"I said I can't already." The prince sighed in annoyance. "This is bad, right?"

"I wouldn't say that, but of course we'll need to look into this once we get to the palace." Arthur stood up, offering his hand to the prince who took it. They stood staring at each other for a few moments before the prince caved in, pulling his mate closer and burying his nose in his hair, craving comfort. "Alfred, it's gonna be alright." He whispered, and Alfred but his lip, unbelieving of the brit's words. It's not gonna be alright, it'll just be confusing and things will only get worse. He's growing ears and he's hearing voices, can't remember his childhood and is afraid of his mother; this isn't going to get better, things are just getting worse and he doesn't know why. "Alfred... please don't..."

Alfred felt his knees buckle and he fell to the ground with a soft thud, he doubled over and rolled to his side. His heart pounded as his chest constricted, throat becoming tight. Arthur sat down beside him, caressing his hands over the other's cheek. Alfred stared up at him in mild confusion, the brit using a thumb to wipe near his eye. The prince felt streaks of warm liquid spilling from his eyes. He was crying, he realized, and he moved to wipe his tears. "I'm sorry..." He muttered, sitting up. "That was awfully dramatic." Arthur shook his head.

"It's fine really, I just... there is no need to panic. I'm sorry for scaring you, your situation isn't as bad as you think." Arthur said, grabbing at the other's hand. "I think you just need some time to let loose in New York, that should set you right. Please cheer up!" The englishman said with a reassuring smile. "Besides, I need you to give me a tour of the city, you can't do that while wallowing in self pity."

"I wasn't wallowing," Alfred said with a smirk. "I was lightly dabbing myself with it, like a perfume pad." He smiled as Arthur chuckled. "I love you lots." He added out of nowhere, even the brit seemed surprised. The englishman, like always, recovered quickly and blew kisses at the prince.

"I love you too."

* * *

 **30 minutes later...**

"We are docked and ready to go on your command." John said, tailing the prince who walked hurriedly around the deck.

"Tell them to get off of the boat then, and distribute some money so they can buy something." He said, waving the other off lazily. Where the hell was Davie and Francis, they said they would be ready by now. Arthur Matthew and Chancy (with Geoffrey) are going on a little shopping spree, while their respective mates go bar hopping. Where the hell did they go?!Did they ditch him?! He turned angrily and looked out at the city before him. They arrived a few minutes ago, yet word spread so fast that half of the city crowded around the harbor, Alfred sighing at the loud shrieks of excited women and loud banter of Irish workers.

The city was beautiful, he must admit. The buildings were short and the streets were busy, the shabbily paved streets branching off into other avenues with their own shabby streets. Women were shopping at markets, bread in their bags and children following behind them. Men selling things or picking up crates on the sidewalk and carrying them into caravans, petting their horses as they walked by. Horses... they need to unload the horses. Fuck!

The prince looked around for someone responsible, his eyes meeting Arthur's as the blonde walked by towards the exit with his friends. The brit paused, before asking him what he wanted. Alfred mulled it over in his head, can his mate actually handle releasing the horses? He definitely can't do it himself. He shook his head. "Go on, have fun." He smiled, waving the others off. The brit shrugged returning to his friends after blowing the other a kiss, boarding off the ship. "Oh, wait!"Alfred called, Arthur turning to look at him expectantly. "Do you guys have money?" You can't go shopping without money.

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, we have money. You could always give us more though." He teased, Matthew scoffing.

"Alfred is one of the cheapest people I know." Alfred gasped, little offended.

"I am not cheap, I just don't see the need of buying things outrageously overpriced." He sneered. "Your an awful shopper, Mattie. You buy something for twice as much as it's worth and you leave a tip! Who does that? Why would you do that?" Alfred shot back, and Matthew shrugged.

"I like giving back." Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, just don't trade away the deed to my castle." He said as he turned back, walking away from the trio. Well, since there's no one else here.. Ugh! He has to release the horses himself. "Fuck, just what I needed!" He mumbled to himself. As he got deeper into the ship, he could hear the horses neighing, restless perhaps. That's bad, especially since he's alone,he couldn't handle a stampede. "Damn, maybe I can get one of the dockworkers to help me." He settled on that, turning back to to return to the deck.

"Alfred!? Alfred?! WHere did he go, I thought he told us he'd wait." Francis shifted, a small pout on his face. Davie shrugged, patting his shoulder reassuringly. Alfred rolled his eyes as he rounded the corner, approaching the two other men.

"Before we go drinking, we have to release the horses."He deadpanned, the Frenchman grinning at him excitedly, and then sourly once he realized what the other had said.

"But... there's like 40 of them." He mumbled, and Alfred shrugged. We can't just keep them there.

"I promise we'll drink to your hearts content." He reasoned, and the king frowned, still nodding his head. "Alright, follow me.'

* * *

 **Arthur's Pov...**

"When do I get to meet him?!" Matthew translated for the shorter frenchman and Arthur sighed, knowing he was going to regret telling them. The mention of his "father" just slipped out of the brit's mouth foolishly as he was looking at the hats, thinking aloud whether or not he should buy it as a gift. You know, first impressions. However, Matthew overheard and wouldn't drop it, suddenly asking the brit a gamut of questions ranging from how old is he to what he looked like. Arthur would have told him if he knew, but since he didn't... he tried in vain to dodge the questions.

"He set sail a few days after we did, but he's going straight to the capitol, so I suspect we'll meet him there." Arthur was fairly certain about that at least. Chancy nodded his head as Matthew translated for him, asking another question.

"Is he kind?" Matthew translated. Arthur bit his lip. He had only received a letter from the man, but the brit felt as if he could guess his personality quite accurately. He left no rooms for buts in his letter, a dominant fellow, yet not to the point where the brit was uncomfortable. He was also considerate, Arthur realized, his brief mention of his country house a few hours from the capitol served as a hint that if things got bad, he would offer asylum. Arthur smiled a little at the thought, though interrupted from his thoughts when he heard Matthew squeal. "Aww, you were just smiling! Were you thinking about your dad?!" He then continued to repeat the question in French. Arthur scowled.

"Anyway, my father... though he's a little on the strict side, he very compassionate and he wouldn't see a person in need and leave them behind." He said as he walked ahead of them, continuing to look inside shops through the glass windows. Chancy quickly caught up with him, geoffrey mumbling and squealing as he was bounced in the process. The brit sighed, Geoffrey was just so cute. Chancy must have read the brit's face because the next thing the englishman knew, Chancy was passing the infant over to Arthur. The brit took him, of course, and cradled his head gently as he continued to browse the marketplace.

First impressions, the place looked magical. The streets were crowded, and looked as if any of them were to be separated, it would be almost impossible to find them. The sidewalk they walked on was severely cracked, and many shops had broken windows. The street lamps were standing tall and unlit as Mothers walked with their children, and husbands with their wives, chatting about the day. There were numerous amounts of horse drawn carriages and wagons being pulled up and down the street, people dressed in either very refined attire, or dressed in very shabby ones. Arthur looked down a his own outfit. He was wearing a freshly washed white blouse that he had left untucked over his dark brown trousers. Geoffrey had on a warm grey onesie and a thick blanket to keep out the frigid march air. The tip of his nose was turning red and his eyes were beginning to water. Arthur sighed, the almost 3 month old is gonna start to cry.

"Chancy, did you feed him before we left?" Arthur asked, passing the sad baby back to Chancy. The Frenchman took his child back in confusion before Matthew translated. Chancy nodded, speaking to his son in french, practically scolding him. Arthur would like to say that it was surprising, but it wouldn't be the first time he had caught Chancy talking to his baby like he understood a word he was saying. He also scolded Davie at times, and though Arthur had personally never seen them argue, he still remembers the day Chancy had slapped Davie. Arthur hadn't asked what the argument was about, but now he was curious again. "Also, do you remember the day you hurt your hip?" Arthur asked, and Matthew translated.

Chancy eyed him warily as Geoffrey tugged on his hair, nodding. He said something in French, and Matthew pursed his lip, replying back to Chancy sharply. The blond quirked his brows before saying something else. "He said," Matthew started, turning his attention to the brit. "That he would prefer not to talk about that day." Arthur quirked his brows, not sure whether or not to air his dirty laundry. Whatever, he was feeling petty today.

"But you slapped Davie, I wanna know what it was about." At this, Matthew's jaw dropped as he looked at Chancy, obviously wanting to know what was up. He spoke to the frenchman in French, and Chancy's face contorted into one that was annoying, glaring daggers at Arthur. He spat some words out, and Mathew said some things again, and the two had a back and forth until the Frenchman raised his voice, Chancy sucking his teeth and walking away. "What was that about? We can't let him get too far." Arthur added, heading after his friend.

"He kept saying that it was none of our business. Apparently it was a touchy topic." Matthew said as he followed. Arthur managed to keep Chancy insight for the duration he was tailing him, and he was finally able to catch up when Chancy stopped and paused in front of a lamp post. Arthur frowned as more and more civilians began to stop and stare at the same lamp post, but Arthur wasn't close enough to see what the commotion was about. Eventually a woman let out a shrill cry, and Arthur was let through, heart dropping when he saw what was tied up against the pole.

It was a woman dressed in white whose dress was covered in holes and blood. She was tied up around the pole with dingey leather fastenings around her neck, hips, and ankles. Her face, along with body, had carvings etched into her forehead. Though she was covered in blood, it only took Arthur a moment to recognize her and let his tears brim his eyes.

He pushed further in through the crowd, brushing past Chancy, who had an almost terrified look on his face, and ran to the woman's side. He quickly checked for a pulse, pulling a napkin out of his pocket and wiping her face. How did she get out here?! Why is she here?! "Matthew, get help, now!" Her pulse was light, but it was still there. Arthur began to unfasten her when Chancy used his free hand to grab the back of his collar. Arthur, despite himself, couldn't resist the pull and landed on his butt about a yard away from the Woman. He read the carving on her forehead through the tears, it flipping from plain english to random triangles and squares. What was going on? Why her?

"Elizabeta?"

* * *

2 hours later...

Arthur pushed the wild curls away from baby Geoffrey's face, smiling as the baby smiled back at him. He allowed Chancy to caress him as they waited for their release, finding the other's companion priceless. Matthew was there too, talking to the public about how Elizabeta's murder would be investigated by the crown. Arthur seized up, his tears welling up. It was Allister who killed her, he knew, the threat being too personal to be written by anyone else.

We know where you are and how to find you.

Why did they kill their informant, because she was no longer useful? Because she betrayed them? But how did they get to the states before them? And how did they tie her up without anyone noticing? He let his tears fall once again. Her death was so gory, and he couldn't imagine the pain she was put through. The brit thought back to Roderich and the twins. They'll be in so much pain once they found out, and it'll all be Arthur's fault. If he hadn't come to the fortress, he would have never met Elizabeta and she would have never been put in that dungeon. She would have never met Allister. She would have not been displayed as disfigured as she was for all of New York to see.

Arthur cringed at the thought of Allister and his brothers. They were sadistic. Just how far were they willing to go to get Arthur back? Would they do this again? But to who? The Englishman looked down at the baby in his hands, his friend by his side and his mate, and the frog, and Davie, and Matthew... If anything were to happen to them... Arthur wiped his eyes gently. He considered them a quirky family, and he loved them all now. He can't let his brothers hurt the people he loved, and sure he didn't leave on the best terms with Elizabeta, but Arthur knew she truly cared about him, and he wished he could have told her he had forgiven her. He wish he could have told her he did love her.

But now he has to think of a way to save his friends. He is in no way capable enough to fight them off, his only ability was omnilingualism, and the bad feeling he occasionally got. He could perhaps learn, but from who? The only way to protect his family would be to go along with them, to separate from his mate and return to England. But how? Alfred would never let that happen, and Arthur doubted his ability to lie in his face. He was stumped and useless. His existence only proving to be deadly to those around him. When was he going to be let out, he answered all of their questions already.

The officer walked into the grey holding cell and sat down across the trio. He took a sip of his coffee before clearing his voice. "I'm sorry to hear about your friend, I'm truly sorry for your loss." Arthur, with the best American Accent he could muster, thanked the officer, and asked when he would be released. "Right about now actually. If you would follow me, I'll guide you to your mate." Arthur sighed in relief. He had been here for hours writing personal statements and answering questions about who would or could do this. No regular police force ignorant to the supernatural could actually solve this case, Arthur knew. He just wanted to be with Alfred, who he could sense was close by. Arthur handed Geoffrey back to Chancy as they walked, figuring he had hogged him enough. They walked down the hall of the police precinct where the brit swore he could hear the prince yelling.

"Where the hell are our mates? Release them now!" Arthur walked into the lobby to a very angry Davie and Alfred growling at the male officer at the front desk.

"Y-your h-highness, please, they'll be released soon, I swear" He looked terrified, but the two knights looked as if they about ready to kill him. The officer's eyes darted around until his eyes made contact with Arthur. "There they are!" He said frantically, pointing at the newly released omegas. The alphas were on them in seconds, Arthur breathing in the ocean breeze and metallic smell of his mate. Alfred began to scnt him, in front of everyone, and Arthur could see the other officers look away. Arthur looked to his right and saw that Davie was doing the same to Chancy, taking Geoffrey into his arms and scenting him too.

"Let's go" Alfred ordered once he pulled away. "We found an inn with enough rooms for us. We'll talk about what happened when we get there, okay?" He held Arthur's hand in his as he led them out of the police house, Arthur following behind stiffly. What if they attack again? Who will it be? Arthur swallowed harshly and kept walking, linking elbows with the prince for security. He didn't look back, but he could hear Davie talking to Chancy in broken French, so the others were close behind. Arthur walked for what felt like 15 minutes before he finally saw the building they were going too. It looked more like a mansion, than an inn, but if Alfred was sure this was the place then who was Arthur to question.

When they got to the front door of the inn, a door pulled it open and smiled politely at the guests. Once in, Arthur could see how spacious and elegant it look, white pillows on white sofas on white carpets next to black curtains. The ceiling was impossibly high, dozens of chandeliers everywhere. There was an open bar, women and men having drinks and cheering, flirting with each other. Arthur made contact with Francis, who was taking a long sip of wine as he talked with his mate. The king alerted his mate of their arrival, and Matthew waved to them, motioning for them to come over. They were seated in a large circle booth away from the loud bar. The couples slid in, Chancy saying something in French that made the king stare at him for a little while before laughing, saying something back. Chancy ignored him though, resting his head on Davie's shoulder, allowing the child to touch his face.

"Seriously my friend, if you have to keep making sure none of your subordinates are around in order for you to cuddle your mate I'm going to sack you." He mumbled as he took another sip of his wine. Arthur bit his lip, feeling a little famished.

"Isn't it a little early to be drinking?" Alfred asked, and Francis shrugged.

"I'm an alcoholic, what do you expect?" He retorted, and Arthur looked up at his, dare he say, friend. He was an alcoholic? Really? "I'm kidding caterpillar brow, relax." Arthur visually calmed, and the king chuckled. "But I appreciate your concern." Arthur only sighed in response, resting his head on the table.

"What does a guy need to do to get a drink around here?" he groaned, running his hands through his hair.


	22. Chapter 22

**Warning:Gore**

 **Arthur's POV**

He slowly took a sip of his white wine, sighing as the liquid slid down his throat. "I know who did it." He blurted out without thinking, Alfred turning to him with knowing eyes and the rest choking on their drinks, with the exception of Chancy, who didn't understand. Arthur licked his lips, cursing himself and racking his brain for a way to spin this without exposing his true identity. "They're this british militant group that disappeared once we lost the war. The carvings on her forehead read "We know where you are and how to find you", most likely directed at me." He spoke quietly to his friends, and tried to read their faces. Francis looked very intrigued, a little drunk, but very intrigued. He translated for Chancy, who bit his lip, face unreadable. Matthew and Davie shared the same worried expression, and Alfred had on an expression that seemed to warn the brit to tread lightly and explain what was necessary. Arthur nodded at him.

"Why you?" Matthew asked, and Arthur leaned back onto the padded white seat of his booth. He spun the wine in his cup, looking at the clear substance, clearing his thoughts.

"I'm their cousin, and my uncle, a distant one who I barely knew, was a key member. You can practically call him the leader. He died though, in a battle against the Americans, and his children disappeared. My siblings and I thought they were dead, so we just laid low as our father tried to blur any connection he had to them. He had provided them with money to fund their camps and stuff, so he thought he may be in trouble." He started. Arthur continued to concentrate on his wine. He had no idea where he had learned this information, but he was positive that what he had said about Mr. Pendragon was true, he was somehow related to him, and he did fund the camps.

"Well if you cut ties all those years ago, then why are they after you now?" Davie asked, downing his shot of whiskey in one swig. Arthur glanced at him once, reading his face again. He looked a little skeptical as of right now, so the brit had to say something.

"Well, they assumed I was dead too, along with the rest of my immediate family. However, that brings me to my origin story about how I met you all." Alfred looked up at him now, not even he knew the entire story, just who his father actually was. "My father doesn't deal with death well, all of my older siblings had died, and he feared for me and Peter's safety. He sent us to London about 3 years before it had fallen, to an associate named Ector to watch over us. He died of the plague sometime later, and about a year after that the Americans came back demanding money. Before I could arrange for Peter and I's retreat to Lancashire, cannons were shot, and our wall began to crumble. At first we thought we could escape, and I probably could have, but Peter had physical ailments that ended up slowing us down. We were forced to retreat into the tunnels." Looked at Alfred and Davie with accusing eyes, and the latter shrunk back, Alfred just continuing to stare at him.

"How long were you in the tunnels?" He asked, the first time he had ever asked.

"Around 3 years." He answered, and the American pursed his lips. "Social status doesn't matter down there." He added, and he looked at the table, studying the smooth black surface. "Rich or poor didn't matter, it was hell if you weren't mated, or had a weak mate who couldn't protect you from a horny gang of savages in heat." he paused, looking down at his wine again. "It was awful and disgusting down there, almost lawless. Some Garrison officers tried to keep order but in the end instinct just took over and everyone just ended up a hollow version of themselves. Becoming things you swore you'd never be. Doing things you swore you'd never do. Losing values you swore you'd always keep. The war changed everything for us, and even when we thought things couldn't get worse, it always did. You Americans never stop." He couldn't stop the anger from seeping into his words, it was as if the frustration he felt for the last 10 wanted to be unleashed.

"What does that have to do with the militant group?" Matthew asked softly, and Arthur nodded. He was getting off track.

"In September, Peter and I were taken by U.S troops to the fortress Sauvage, and along the way Peter and I were separated. As I was trying to think of a plan to rescue him, I ran into a dying prince, who instead of leaving behind, I chose to help." He paused so he'd let that information sink in. "We somehow made to the fortress, and my dear younger brother was nowhere to be seen, because little did I know, he was murdered horribly by the same people who offered me sanctuary. Then I met Elizabeta, who was a spy for the militant group. She told them that I was actually alive, and she told me they wanted to rescue me and Peter. Before I knew it, they snuck in through my window, stabbed me, and put me in a coma. But before that, they wanted me to come back with them to "reunite the family" and "force the Americans out"." He made air quotes as he said this, tucking a strand of his hair out of his face.

"But," Alfred started, and Arthur cut him off.

"After I had woken up, we had spoken again." Arthur was referring to the conversation he had with Seamus while unconscious. "Seamus told me that the moment he felt something was off, he wouldn't hesitate to come back and tie loose ends. He also said that he won't have our family interbreeding with the enemy." Alfred choked on his beer, looking at the brit with shocked, angry eyes.

"What?" He asked quietly. He said what, but what he really meant was how could he. Arthur looked at away, smacking his lips before taking another sip from his glass.

"I thought the sooner we were off of the island, the safer we would be. I thought I could run away from my problems, but now Elizabeta's dead and they won't stop until they get me back." With that said, he drunk the rest of his wine. "And I kinda think that would be the easiest solution to our problems." He added. Alfred shook his head wildly, taking a few gulps of his beer.

"Or we can just kill them." He said, and Arthur scoffed, giggling wildly.

"Seamus, Allister and Dylan wiped out your camp; Allister almost killed you or did you forget?" Arthur spat, glaring at his mate. "Did you forget about what just happened this morning? They killed Elizabeta, who was left back on the Island, where they were. For all we know, the fortress isn't even standing anymore. Do you even know how they got here? They can obviously do things you can't. The smartest option is to give them what they want." He looked up at the ceiling, sighing. "I'm not worth dying over, love."

* * *

 **30 minutes later...**

"I'm serious Arthur, if they take you, they're taking us too." Francis said with a slight slur, chugging down a bottle of wine. With that the rest of the booth cheered, and Arthur frowned. So much for that heart to heart. Arthur looked over at Alfred, who stared at his shot of alcohol blankly. He hadn't said a word since the brit had told him off. However, Arthur didn't feel bad, the only way to get anything through Alfred's head was to hurt his pride. Despite himself, Arthur grabbed Alfred's hand and squeezed it, resting his head on his shoulder.

"They'll have to kill me before they get to you." He muttered softly to the brit, and Arthur shook his head.

"Alfred please, I don't want anything bad to happen again. When I'm with them, I won't hesitate to try and escape once I see an opening." He tried to reason, but the prince looked at him with almost crazy eyes.

"They had already killed my father, they won't take my mate." He said, drinking some of his beer. "And I know that it's almost suicidal, but I don't care. There ain't no me if there ain't no you." The brit blushed.

"Thats awful grammar, love." Alfred chuckled, throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulder. "I'm scared." He whispered, and Alfred hummed, caressing his arm.

"I... I guess I'm a little too. But Francis is right, we're a team now, they're not taking you anywhere." He said softly, but with certainty, and for a moment Arthur believed him. But only for a moment.

 _"AHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHH!"_

Arthur jolted in shock, the group turning their attention to the bar, where the screaming was coming from. The female bartender was floating in thin air, leather straps wrapping itself around her wrists and ankles, tying her to the chandelier above her. Arthur closed his eyes, knowing what was going to come next. He heard a piercing screech as the fractured glass penetrated her eyes. She cried out in agony as a third bottle was lifted, pressed along her hairline, tearing through her skin, an invisible force pulling her long blonde hair back, blood squirting onto her face. The same sharpedge was pressed against her neck as she screamed. Oh god, no.

The glass moved swiftly to the right, slicing her throat out, a waterfall of blood spraying from her neck. She spasmed as she died, the chandelier not being able to handle the added weight, fell. Arthur turned away at the crashing sound, ignoring the tears that poured from his eyes. When he looked back, the body of the young woman was bent over the counter of the bar, all torn up and bloody, fragments of chandelier on her back and all over the surrounding area. The brit panted as he climbed over his seat to get out of the booth, all of his friends still staring wide eyed at the spectacle before them. Arthur rushed to the body. He hadn't even know her. Why attack an innocent woman?

As he approached he almost gagged at the sight of her bleeding skull, the crown of her skull now being visible. The closer he got, he could see etchings in the bone, and eventually he realized it was another message. When he had finally made it to her side, he mumbled a soft prayer for her soul, apologizing for causing her this pain. He took out his bloody napkin, the same one he had used on Elizabeta, and wiped some of the blood off of her skull so he could read it.

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais, Arthur?!" Chancy shouted, and Matthew Translated.

"What the Fuck are you doing?!"

"It says," Arthur said, squinting at the small etchings. "That they want to meet me at the harbor, tomorrow night at 11." He stepped away from the corpse and sighed. "Guys, I really think we should just give them what they want."

* * *

 **Arthur's POV**

Arthur was once again grabbed by his collar by Chancy, who tugged him away from the corpse. He was the only member in the group who wasn't glued to their seat, urging the brit to stay away from the cadaver. The englishman allowed the smaller to lead him out of the reception lobby room and take him upstairs to the bedrooms. " _You didn't see anything, you didn't do anything_." Chancy muttered, and the brit swore.

" _Chancy, I..._ "

" _You didn't do anything, Arthur. And your speaking French again_." He said with a heavy sigh, pushing open a door and nudging the other to enter. The room was surprisingly bare, the tan bed sheets and the brown curtains fed to the depressing mood the brit was slowly slipping into. He took a seat on the bed and leaned back, Chancy opting to pace the room instead. There was an awkward silence before Chancy spoke. " _What's your real name, Arthur? Is it really Arthur Pendragon_?" Chancy asked, but his tone didn't sound accusatory, rather just curious. Arthur still sputtered, he couldn't just tell him the truth.

 _"Of course it is! Why?!_ " He asked, feigning anger. His cheeks reddened as he clenched his jaw, glaring at the other. Chancy doesn't know what he's talking about. Chancy stopped pacing and narrowed his eyes at the other before tying his long blond hair up in a neat pony tail.

" _Because_ " he started, walking slowly over to the brit. His face was no longer the soft, uncompromising sweetness he was used to. Instead, it resembled more the sinister expression he briefly caught on Chancy's face the first time his omnilingualism activated on the boat. " _That felt like Kirkland magic._ " He paused and watched the brit's expression. Arthur opened his eyes widely at the other omega. He knows about magic? He opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't leave his lips. He sat up, looked at his hands as if he had just gotten caught with something, and looked up at Chancy slowly.

" _What's going on, Chancy?_ " Arthur asked, biting his lip. The beautiful blond in front of him softened his expression, his ice blue eyes sparkling with fondness. He sat beside the brit and swung an arm over his shoulder, leaning his head against him. He looked up at the brit, who looked back with expectant eyes. Chancy smiled.

" _I know who you are, Arthur. I know what you are._ " He said softly. " _I know just about everything._ " Arthur shook his head in disbelief. Chancy? No, no, no. Perhaps if he just stays in character a little bit longer, Chancy will stop.

" _I don't know know what you mean_." He said, shrugging a little bit. Chancy giggled.

" _Arthur, lets make this easier for the both of us. We all saw what happened down there, and we all know there's magic involved. I know our friends are dense, but they're not stupid, they'll piece things together._ " He said as he pulled away, stretching like a cat. His back arched until his head was almost on the mattress, his legs folding up slightly. He's really flexible. His thoughts were interrupted by a series of sicken coughs from Chancy. Arthur patted his back, but Chancy swatted him away, shaking his head as he doubled over coughing.

" _Are you okay?_ " He asked, worried. He never seen Chancy like this, was he sick. The frenchman didn't answer, now on the floor, coughing and heaving. " _Do you need to vomit?_ " Chancy didn't stop, retching sounds so sickening it made Arthur nauseous. The brit had had enough, crouching down beside the other and stroking his back for comfort. Chancy gagged again, and with a sickening hurl, the other began to breath normally again, panting.

" _Can you get me a napkin?"_ He asked hoarsely, not turning to face the brit. Arthur picked one up from the dresser table and handed it to the Frenchman who cleaned the saliva from his face. Arthur was about to ask what was that all about when he saw the yellow ball of hair.

" _Chancy... what the...?_ " The brit back away slowly as the other looked up at him. Chancy's nose twitched quickly as he struggled to catch his breath. Long fine hairs, like whiskers, sprouted from his upper lip, and his ice blue eyes had vertical slit-pupils, like a cat. The brit looked down again, looking at his friends little mess. " _So that's a hairball... and you're a cat?"_ Chancy pursed his lips as his features went back to normal, the whiskers receding and his pupils coming back to normal.

" _Well...no. I'm a witch that can turn into a cat_."

* * *

 _"What? Does Davie know?"_ Arthur asked as Chancy cuddled up against him.

 _"I thought the questions were over."_ he responded. _"You asked me what my name was and I told you it was Chancy Marquis de Lafayette. You asked me what my origin story was, and I told all about my coven and my home. You still haven't ask me anything important. And now you want to ask me whether my mate knows anything about me."_ He said with a heavy sigh. _"So, no, he doesn't. I never told him, and I'm not planning to._ "

Arthur nodded at the answer, but frowned at the criticism. " _What's the important question you had in mind? Did you want me to ask you how to handle my psychopathic brothers_?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. _"I don't want you going anywhere near the harbor tomorrow. I mean it, Chancy._ " The second in command looked at hims with skeptical eyes before shaking his head.

 _"I'm not an idiot. I can read the runes too. It said meet at the harbor tonight at 11, you were planning on going alone."_ He said, glaring at the brit. Arthur bit his lip, once again, caught in a lie.

 _"Don't tell anyone."_ He ordered, and Chancy hesitated, but eventually nodded.

 _"As long as you leave it to me._ " He yawned, and Arthur scoffed again. Chancy scowled at him. _"Hey~ I can do it! I've been training my whole life, unlike you and your brothers! I can handle them, probably not kill them, but I can scare them away for now."_ He mumbled, repositioning himself. He was silent for a moment. " _Try speaking to me in English._ " Arthur pursed his lips. He didn't know how to shut it off, this only being the second time this power was activated. He cleared his mind and breathed in deeply.

 _"Like this?_ " He asked. Chancy shook his head. Oh? He cleared his mind once more before envisioning the some basic words. " _Then, like this?_ " Once again, Chancy shook his head.

 _"You're still speaking french. If the others walk in and hear you, they might..._ " He trailed of, looking at the door. " _They're coming. Don't say anything_." He said as sat up, slowly leaning back against the headboard. Arthur tucked his head under the blanket, pretending to be fast asleep, Chancy murmuring a soft tune to make the scene look more convincing. Arthur flinched as the door opened and multiple people shuffled in, tensing up when he felt his mate's fear and rage.

"What the hell was that?!" Davie asked. Hmm, he could still understand english. Actually, Arthur thought, he can't differentiate at the moment, and Davie knows a little french, so for all he knows, he's talking to his mate. "That woman just... she... in thin air..." He was panting and Arthur could feel Chancy shift off of the bed, perhaps to soothe and comfort his lover.

"Arthur?" This time it was Matthew talking. He sounded scared and confused, but his voice remained steady. "Arthur? You can't be sleeping at a time like this, Arthur!" He sounded panicked, Arthur holding his breath as he heard the other walk over to him. The prince tugged on the blanket, but Arthur held on so it wouldn't uncover his head. Matthew pulled again, and Arthur pulled back. "Arthur! You can't just ignore what just happened."

Arthur scoffed, a little too loudly. Yes, he can ignore this, ignore them. He had to, or else he would be speaking to them in French and it would be increasingly more obvious that he was a liar. Eventually, with a particularly hard pull from Matthew, the blanket was yanked off of his body and he was forced to face his issues.

"Great" he sighed, and Alfred sucked his teeth. "Happy?" He asked, and Matthew scowled at him.

"Don't be an ass, Arthur. You have some explaining to do." He said, putting his hands on his hip, tapping his foot, like an angry mother. The brit quirked a brow. not saying a word. "What just happened?"Matthew asked through his clenched jaw. Arthur bit his lip. How could he spin this? "Arthur! No more lies or half truths!" Matthew yelled. "Tell us everything."

"Depends." He said softly, looking Matthew in the eye. The violet orbs were dilated, his cheeks red; overall very flustered. "How much do you know?" Matthew bit his lip. "I know that by what you meant earlier when you said "They could do things you can't", was whatever the fuck that was." He frowned, and the brit made an amused sound. So they still know nothing? Chancy was wrong, they are denser than they look.

"After seeing that, I thought it would be obvious." He said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I mean, seriously, what the fuck did it look like? Can you think of any phenomenon that would explain that... little spectacle? What else can it be?" He glared up at the prince, and Matthew, who was too deep in thought, turned around, walking towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" Alfred asked, and his brother turned around, frustrated.

"If the answer he's thinking of is magic, I'm leaving." He deadpanned, glaring at the brit.

"It is." Arthur said with a huff. "And chances are that one of us won't make it to the capitol." He said, rolling over to his side, his back towards the others. "This was why I said I wasn't worth saving. That I should just leave with them. They won't kill me, so I'm relatively safe. You guys, on the other hand, will probably die like that woman, and no amount of sword swinging, or gun slinging, will save you. That is, unless you let me be delivered to them, and you allow me to convince them otherwise." He closed his eyes and waited for their response. He winced at the burning sensation in his head, Alfred being beyond furious. The brit was surprised to hear the frenchman speak first though.

"Like we said before, they'll have to get through us before they get to you." He said, and Arthur sat up in shock, turning to look at his friend. What? "I don't care if they have magic!" He said, and Arthur groaned. "We have Chancy!" He proclaimed, and Arthur scowled, looking at his friend who was seated next to him, playing with his son. He knew? Davie was still looking at Francis though, as if the king was a crazy person.

"Chancy is staying miles away from that harbor, Francis." He deadpanned, not even entertaining the idea. Francis swatted Davie's words away with a flick of his wrist and continued.

"Don't worry Davie, Chancy is the best during these kinds of missions. He'll get to the harbor early, sneak up on them, and kill them. One and done." He said, ignoring the knight's protests as he spoke to Chancy in French. The blond bit his lip before nodding, Davie looking at him in horror.

"No!" he said, rushing over to his mate. "No! Are you crazy? You can't go, this is a suicide mission." Chancy scrunched his nose up as he looked at his mate. He leaned back on the bed, the baby resting on his chest. The brit sighed, there's nothing Davie can do about this, really, but he also understood where his anxiety was coming from. They had all just seen a woman die, no one would want that for a friend, especially a lover. Geoffrey gurgled a little bit, bouncing as he tugged on his mother's ears. "Don't ignore me, you can't seriously be going! DId you not just see that?!" He pointed at the door, and Chancy sucked his teeth, muttering something in French. Davie gasped, gaping like a fish before turning beat red. "Excuse me?!"

"He said," Francis started, probably to keep the english speakers in the loop. "That he'll be fine, and that he's handled even worse things than this. Also, that it's a little disheartening what little faith you have in his ability." Francis walked slowly toward the knight and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, Davie. I know you love your mate, and that your alpha instincts are telling you to keep him away from danger, but Chancy isn't 2nd in command for nothing. He'll be back the next day without a scratch." Davie glared at him before glaring at his mate, sighing heavily in frustration, storming out of the room, slamming the door shut.

Chancy sat up, careful of the baby, and went to follow him, giving Francis and Alfred a curt nod before leaving. The brit sighed, another strain on their relationship. At this rate, they'll end the relationship themselves. The brit swung his legs off of the bed, standing and stretching. "You should him tonight, for recon. He'll be more ready to take them on tomorrow if he checks it out tonight." He suggested, looking at the king for approval. Francis nodded and smiled. For the first time since this conversation started, Alfred spoke.

"You're not going." The brit turned to him in half shock half offended. "You aren't going." He repeated, and Arthur didn't reply, he just stared at his mate. He can't stop him, really. He'll just agree to stay, but sneak out at night, and be back by morning. He turned his head away from his mate and looked at his hands.

"I wasn't gonna say that." He said, before sighing.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey guys, I feel a little sick while I'm writing this, and I think I'm gonna go with angst.**

 **Alfred's POV**

 **4 hours later...**

The police came shortly after to take statements, the chief of police not being too stoked to see his majesty and company in the middle of all of the confusion. Now the prince was still arguing with the officer, hours after the body was taken away and the other officers left.

"Your majesty, please, I do very well believe this fine city will need royal assistance. Two attacks within 5 hours! Prince Alfred Jones, I implore you, please reconsider, send New York a militia." He was a short, stout, tubby man with pale skin and tan freckles. His short dark greasy hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and is dark brown suit had a little mud on it. Alfred bit his tongue. He admits that if this were any other occasion, he wouldn't have even needed encouragement, he would have called the militia himself. However, this was out of the scope of the imperial army. To be useful, he apparently had to put all of his faith in Chancy, who, according to Arthur, is a witch too. He also added that he couldn't tell Davie. The prince shook his head.

"No need commisioner, my men and I will handle this ourselves. It will be resolved in no time." He said, successfully biting back his irritation. Despite his irritation, the American had to give him props for not abandoning his city with a simple "no" from the future king. He was truly, despite looks, cut out for the job; the right American valor flowed through his being. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my mate awaits." Alfred said, hushing the chief's attempts at changing his mind as he walked away, up toward his room. Arthur was waiting up there for him, or at least he better be. The prince had alerted everyone of the 'serial killer', and told them to keep their guards up and sleep in turns. The brit was probably fast asleep, but Chancy was with him, and probably Davie too.

The prince slowly walked into the room, and what he walked in on, well, he could hardly say he was surprised. Arthur was sleeping soundly, but Davie was whispering to his lover in French, the blond occasionally smiling. The child, Geoffrey, was snoozing bundled up in Arthur's arms. Alfred cleared his throat, not wanting to eavesdrop on some of the emotional bullshit Davie frequently spews. He's too invested. They met little over a month ago and Davie already sees him as the mother of his child. Yeah they mated, which the prince was still annoyed about, but all Chancy is really doing is stressing out his friend, need not mention the lies he's been telling. The man isn't even human. Davie looked up at him with teary eyes and Alfred groaned. He has had enough; no friend of his is going to go through this blindly. "Davie, we need to talk." He said, loud enough for Davie to notice, but quiet enough for Arthur to keep sleeping.

As he and Davie made there way down the hall, they had managed to find an empty room. Alfred closed the door behind him as he sighed. "Davie, get a hold of yourself man, you're my best knight you can't keep crumbling like this." He sat down on the mattress, Davie furrowed his eyebrows, utterly confused. "I'm talking about Chancy." His friend closed his eyes, sighing heavily from his nose.

"Alfred, he's my mate. I don't want him getting hurt, yet he still says he's going. I know you told me to relax, but sue me, I'm emotional." He muttered, pacing the room. Alfred rubbed his temples. The prince had already had a lengthy, tender discussion with the other, but it seems it hadn't stuck. Now, the prince's only move was to take a tough love approach.

"You may be blind to it, but everyone around has noticed how you've changed for the worse the second you got involved with Chancy." He said, ignoring the shocked look on his friend's face. "You're cranky, sleep deprived, and a bag of mood swings. If I didn't know better I would think you're pregnant!" Davie opened his mouth to speak, but Alfred cut him off. "Chancy is attractive, yes, but you can't just let a pretty face screw with the system we have going on. Besides, he's not in any real danger, he's scouting today, he's fighting tomorrow."

"Excuse me?!" Davie had a deranged amused face on, and he scoffed bitterly. "That is hilarious coming from you, Mr. I-pick-up-starving-brits-from-tunnels! Have you heard the shit coming out of the guards mouths? The maids? They know you're about a month behind on work because you can't seem to part with your snow bunny for more than three hours! Furthermore, I'm cranky because I hate travelling, I'm sleep deprived because you had me working as 2nd in command and the fucking surgeon, and I definitely do not have mood swings! Before you comment on my relationship with Chancy look at your own. It's about 10 times more fucked." He was panting now, glaring at his prince, daring the other to respond. Alfred smirked, though the gesture was enough to mask his offense, or his anger.

"What? My relationship? Dude!" Alfred yelled, motioning his hand wildly to the door. "Five minutes ago you were crying because your mate has to do his job! Two weeks ago, you were willing to leave your job to go overseas with your omega! You keep saying you have this "alpha instinct"," he made air quotations, pausing to take a breath. "But really, you wear the damn panties in your relationship! If you really don't want him to go, fucking tell him not to go! You bit him, he didn't bite you, but you're too much a romantic pussy to see that he's walking all over you!" Alfred was shouting now, very loudly, and he was sure the people in the next room could hear him, but he didn't care. His friend needed to hear this from him. Davie looked at him with shocked eyes before shaking his head.

"I don't even blame you for your backwards mentality!" Davie shouted back. "You, raised for as long as you can remember as if the world revolved around you and that everyone had to do what you say, have no idea how to treat an omega!" Alfred scoffed, but Davie cut him off. "Shut up and let me finish! I can't just go there and demand he don't go, I can't just make him quit his job, or force him to feel complacent as my inferior! Unlike you, I want my mate to have options, to not fear my reactions, to not feel obligated to say yes to me and jeopardize their morals! If Chancy wanted to fucking keep his job, I would have went with him. If he insists he can handle tonight's job, I'm still trying to convince him otherwise, but when the time comes, and he's getting ready to go, I won't block the door. I'll kiss him and beg him to be careful and to come back in one piece." Alfred scoffed, standing up and walking up to the other, stopping short of 6 inches to his face.

"You think I'm restricting Arthur?! I'm fucking trying to help him. If I just let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to do, he would be long dead!" His voice was cracking, but he continued to yell. "I know I don't fucking own him, he reminds me daily. I know I can't speak for him! I know I can't ultimately decide what he gets to do! But because he has such a narrow perception on life, he'll end up getting himself killed If I don't cancel out some of the more ridiculous options. He was literally put in a coma because he spent hours looking for me in the dead of night because he thought I had jumped out of the window after we had an argument. He thought I jumped out of a window! So to prevent that from happening again, I leave him little notes because I don't want him to have to jump to anymore ridiculous conclusions! I don't want to micromanage him, but he's been through too much shit to be entirely independent." He shoved Davie, and Davie shoved him back.

"You make him sound like an idiot, yet he's one of the smartest people you know! Stop babying him and let him learn a thing or two instead of commenting on my-"

"Oh fuck you, you piece of shit! You think I don't know he's a fucking genius! He's an information sponge, I get that, he's smart, but he needs more than books to survive. He needs experience, but now isn't the time to be acquiring experience if there are fucking wizards or some shit out to get us!" He cut the other off. "Unlike your mate, my mate needs a gentle coaxing into the world. It'll be unfair to him to just thrust him into big decisions because I want to be a fucking liberal. He can't fight for shit, I have tried to teach him, and yea he's getting better, but he still isn't ready to defend himself properly. So for the time being, if I want to keep my eye on him to make sure he's safe, than I'll do that. Not because I don't trust him, but because I don't trust other people." He panted, Davie glaring at him before a harsh knock banged the door. Francis walked in, thoroughly unamused by the argument he had just heard.

"Firstly, settle down, you are way too loud. Secondly, are you two aware that you aren't mated to the same person?" The Americans nodded. "Oh, good. Now, have a seat on the bed please." He bit his lip, his expression now the two got seated, he began to speak. "Alfred, Chancy is a free spirit, and if Davie tried your approach, it'll only result in Chancy feeling trapped and miserable. Davie, you know that Arthur has had a tumultuous, unstable life. If he were all laxed, Arthur would feel unwanted and act out on his impulses." Alfred opened his mouth, and Francis hushed him. "Yes, Alfred, I know you are worried for your friend because you don't trust _my_ friend, but Chancy truly loves him, and I assure you he's doing his best not to walk over Davie's pride. However... Davie, being a little more firm won't hurt."

"Whenever I do he cries." He muttered, and Alfred glanced at him. His head was hanging as he stared at the floor. His voice was broken, the knight perhaps moments from tears himself. It seems the stress had finally gotten to him. "He's not very compromising, but I love him, so he's worth the frustration." Francis shook his head.

"If you don't let your instincts shine through every now and then, you'll become weak and he'll leave you." Francis said. "If there's one thing Chancy can't stand it's a weak mate. Take control sometime." He advised before turning to Alfred. "And for you, Alfred... you're too carefree to be that mean to your mate. You're always aloof at world meetings and other important diplomatic events, yet you reeled in the reigns on your lover real tight."

"Excuse me?" Alfred asked, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward in a challenge. Francis simply mimicked the action, rolling his eyes.

"Usually I would look down on your method of treating your mate, but considering Arthur is a rather rare and special case, the conservative tactics are actually working. Being a little liberal wouldn't hurt, and nowadays I know you've been trying." He said with a small sigh. "You let him go shopping without you, even though you are aware of his accent, and the everyday misconduct on New York streets. Instead of finding a corpse, he could have been stabbed, run over by a horse, or kidnapped, but you let him spend quality time with his friends because you know he's his own person." He praised, and Alfred pursed his lips, waiting for the criticism. 'However, Davie's right. Stop forcing your influence over people, it's very disheartening. You're the king, and you rule over the land, but I suggest you keep that power in politics, avoid seeping it into other people's relationships. I heard about you threatening to nullify Davie's own." Alfred rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't serious, I just said it because Chancy was being difficult." He shrugged as he explained. "Before you start coming at my moral compass, you've known me for years. I really don't give a shit about other people's feelings. I saw Davie being put in a corner, so I reacted the most effective way I could, and if that shook Chancy, my bad, but I honestly don't care. I lack the ability to empathize." He added a little smirk at the end to seem more casual. Francis nodded.

"I know, I know. You're really mean, and you just don't care enough to change. However, you just said you threatened Chancy for Davie's sake, so it's obvious you care about him. You lack common sense though, because that threat wouldn't, and didn't only affect Chancy, it hurt Davie too. You're too overprotective, and you're unwittingly hurting your friends. Perhaps allowing him some liberty to manage his own life will strengthen your friendship."

"Okay." Alfred muttered before biting his lip, glancing at his best friend. "Davie?" The other knight looked up at him with pink eyes. "I'm sorry. I'll mind my business and butt out of yours." He offered a hand, and Davie swatted it away. Alfred scowled, about to say something rude before Davie grabbed him and pulled him into an embrace.

"It's okay dude, but..." he started, and Alfred quirked a brow. "About what you said earlier with me being the ones in the panties... What color would they be? Teal, red, or- oh! red pinstripe lingerie with yellow lace trim and tiny bows?" He chuckled and Alfred scowled.

"You have until the count of three to get off of me, you kinky bastard!" he mumbled, prying himself away. Davie wouldn't let go though, the struggle soon turning into a wrestling match.

* * *

 **2 hours later...**

Despite the conversation he had earlier, his frustrations and concerns came back the moment he saw Davie talking to Chancy again. Alfred had no idea what was wrong with himself, why can't he just give them space? The two looked happy enough, well, not right now of course considering the situation at hand, but on the daily, they were fine. Arthur had woken up some time ago, and the entire group was playing cards. Alfred had suggested strip poker, seeing that there was no way he would lose this time. He was right, of course, and he was in the lead, Arthur following close behind missing one sock, Francis third without his shoes, Davie fourth without his shirt and socks, and Chancy dead last with a frilly pink nightgown, white socks, and a hair tie. Alfred looked down; Chancy was awful at playing cards.

"Alright..." Davie sighed bitterly. "I think this was an awful decision." He said as he folded in frustration. Francis laughed as he looked at his deck fondly. Matthew sat silently on the bed, reading a book as the others played. He wasn't one for gambling, Alfred knew, but he hadn't objected to the game, he just sat out. Alfred looked at Francis, who had an excited grin on his face. Alfred scoffed.

"I call your bluff." He said, tossing his cards on the table revealing a four of a kind. Francis frowned, taking off his sock. Alfred was in the middle of laughing before Arthur interrupted him, placing his own cards on the table. Aces. "Fuck, and I was winning too." He muttered as he took off a shoe. Arthur smirked at him.

"Now we are tied." He said, yawning. "Reshuffle." He said as he passed the cards to Chancy, the only one in the group who knew how to shuffle efficiently. Alfred watched mesmerized by how skilled he was at shuffling the deck, the cards almost flying in between each other. "He's so good at shuffling, but he's shit at the game." Arthur said is disbelief, and everyone nodded, even Matthew who was reading a book. It seemed they all had the same train of thought. The blond began to pass the cards out, and when they all had their hands, Alfred looked at his cards, smiling. He got a crap hand.

Davie had a wicked grin on his face, this can't be good. Francis looked satisfied as he looked at his cards. Arthur bit his lip; perhaps he had a bad hand too. Alfred looked at Chancy, who's face, as always, was unreadable. The knight slowly put his cards on the table. "Straight Flush?" Alfred bit his lip as he along with the rest of the group groaned 'fold'. Davie had a shocked expression, thanking god for the Jack, ten, nine, eight and seven of spades he had been blessed with.

Everyone's attention turned to Chancy when he giggled, putting his cards on the table, revealing a Royal Flush, Ace through ten of hearts. Ironically, the omega probably stopped Davie's. Alfred clapped as Davie hung his head low in defeat, muttering as he slipped off his pants. "Better luck next time, buddy." Arthur said as he passed the cards to Chancy again to shuffle. Matthew closed his book suddenly and stood up off of the bed.

"It's about to be dinner time guys, freshen up and get downstairs" he ordered, and Alfred groaned. Matthew repeated his orders in French for Chancy as Alfred reluctantly stood up, ignoring the amused look on Arthur's face. Francis was the last to get up out of the sheer need to be extra. They made a single file line for the bathroom, which was, conveniently enough, connected to the room.

* * *

 **30 minutes later...**

Dinner was crowded, loud, yet fun and comforting Alfred had to admit; a nice change of scenery. The dining hall was as large as the one in the fortress, yet leaps and bounds more fancy. There were dozens of chandeliers and the walls were a bright white, along with the tablecloth that spread along the length of the table. Alfred had no idea how long the table was, but it was long enough to fit half of his ship, so... 50 people. The dining hall also had many other tables that were nowhere near as long but seated around ten people each. The padded seats were black leather, the tired Americans and Frenchmen taking well to the luxurious furniture.

Not to mention the food was amazing. The chefs had put out extra food to apologize for the commotion that evening, a wide arrange of mutton, roasted boar, glazed duck, gravy, chicken soup, and don't even get the prince started on the steak. It was so moist, buttery, and savory; he moaned as he took a bite. He wished he could live here forever. He was snapped out of his thoughts by Matthew, who was reprimanding him.

"Stop making those noises, weirdo." He scolded, and Alfred moaned louder and louder, pissing his brother off. "Seriously, all you're having is steak, how good could it be?" He asked, and the prince cut a piece of steak from his plate and stabbed it with his fork, presenting it in front of Matthew. "I don't want any." He said, but Alfred wasn't taking no for an answer. Matthew sighed dramatically as he ate the piece from the fork, his face heating up instantly, a moan escaping his lips. "That's really good." he sighed dreamily.

"Told you" Alfred said, but the conversation was cut short by silence. His table, the long table, was quiet and the knights looked at him expectantly. "Yes?" He asked, a little confused.

"Toast!" someone down the table commanded, and the table roared in agreement. Oh. Alfred shut his eyes and thought as fast as he could. What the hell should he say? Finally he stood up and filled his empty glass with wine, raising it up, clearing his throat.

"Brothers," He started, and everyone quieted down, the occasional hush, but for the most part silent. Even those from the other tables began to crowd around in order to hear. "For the last 3 years we have been together, living, and serving the U.S crown from our humble fortress in the forest Sauvage." People hooted, so Alfred had to stop and wait for them to chill. "We have seen great trials, and had looked right into the eyes of evil numerous times, yet we prevailed in each encounter, not losing our faith or dignity as noble knights. I would personally like to thank each and every one of you for not losing your way during troubling times, and remaining loyal to me and my family during our journey. You've put your blood, sweat, and tears into your lines of work, and I don't think I will ever be able to put into words how grateful I am to your righteousness, to your selflessness, or to the unwavering American ideals you all succeed in upholding each and everyday. But now, brothers, we are home, and soon you will be with your families and friends. So let's make toast to safe passage, long lives, and beautiful women."

The men of the room lifted their drinks and the sounds of glasses clanging together rang through the room. Alfred bumped cups with those around him before sitting down, smiling at the happy faces of those before him, like a proud mother. The room became full of activity, new life coursing through everyone as they conversed and ate. Davie patted his shoulder fondly, and Francis nodded at him as he downed another glass of wine. "That was beautiful." The king said, Alfred smiled at the praise. He had truly meant every single word he said. He was truly in debt to his men, and despite being a hardass on the daily, they meant more to him than anything.

"I agree, quite eloquent if I do say so myself." Arthur said as he patted his mate's other shoulder, smiling. Alfred placed a quick kiss on his lover's cheek before Arthur returned his attention to Matthew and Chancy, who apparently had some tea on the staff.

Well, almost more than anything.

* * *

 **2 hours later...**

Everyone moved to the lounging area, chatting and flirting with the maids of hotel. The group sat back in their booth and ordered some drinks. The mood was a little somber, the clock almost reaching 10. Chancy would be gone in an hour, and hopefully back before Midnight. He's just scouting the area, there is no real danger. However, Alfred could almost see the nervousness on Chancy's face, but sometimes it was so brief he could have easily mistaken it for his imagination. Currently the french cat witch, or whatever the brit said he was, was looking at Geoffrey intently, tracing circles on his cheeks, tucking strands of hair out of his face. Davie tried his best not to look like a wreck, but he was downing shots faster and faster, almost completely drunk. Alfred couldn't blame him.

Hopefully Chancy makes it back okay. Not just for Davie, but for the baby. Alfred, though he won't admit it yet, he truly sees the pair as the true parents of the almost 3 month old. He wouldn't want his nephew to lose his mother before getting to know him. He was brought out of his thoughts by the weird feeling someone gets when they're getting watched. Alfred blinked several times before realizing Chancy was looking at him. Hmm? The blond whispered something to Matthew, who whispered to Arthur, who whispered to Alfred.

"He wants you to watch Geoffrey for the night." the brit said, not even waiting for an answer before giving his response to Matthew, who translated it for Chancy. Alfred looked at Davie, who was all pink and half unconscious. Yeah, it seem Alfred was currently the better choice for the baby's well being for the hour.

"Sure" he said, and Arthur nodded.

"I already told them."

After 10 minutes or so, Chancy stood up and left the booth, handing Alfred his son, and heading upstairs to get ready. Davie was already up there, claiming that he needed to pee before he let it loose in front of everyone. However, no one was fooled. He was probably crying. Alfred held the child, albeit awkwardly, but he still held it, allowing him to reach for his face. The soft stubby fingers grazed his cheek, probably trying to remember who this man was and where his mother went. The harbor was a 10 minute walk from here, and Chancy was in no real danger, considering the real meeting was tomorrow. Davie was probably internalizing it as first step in losing his mate, or whatever. However, the prince will still pray for the other tonight, for his safe return. You never know who's out there, you know, the anger is very real this time of night.

* * *

It had been a 15 minutes since Chancy had left and the groups went back to their respective rooms, Davie having long been passed out. Alfred borrowed the crib from Davie's room and placed it in his, putting the sleeping infant down gently. Hopefully he doesn't get up too often. Arthur undressed quickly, a distant look in his eyes. He's thinking about Chancy, Alfred could tell, but it's out of his hands now. It was 10:30, and Alfred had drunk too much to stay awake much longer. He took off his clothes and flopped on the bed, his mate laying down beside him.

"I hope he's alright too." He said absentmindedly, moving his head so his mate could cuddle him better. "I'm exhausted."

"Me too, Alfie. Let's go to sleep." Arthur muttered, before peeling himself away in order to blow out the candle. When he repositioned himself, he placed soft kisses on the American's neck, sighing. "I love you, you git." Alfred couldn't help his blush as he turned his head just enough to kiss the other's forehead, whispering a soft i love you against it.

"Good night, babe. Oh! and good night, Geoffrey, your mommy and daddy will get you in the morning" The American yawned, closing his heavy eyelids. The sensation he felt before he fell to sleep was the warmth of his lover's hands, which had somehow become intertwined in his.

* * *

 **3 hours later...**

 _Waaaahhhhhhhhhh! Waaaaaaahhhhhhhh!_

Alfred groaned as he rolled to his side, reaching for his mate. Geoffrey was crying. "Artie, I promise I'll propose tomorrow if you calm him down." He continued to feel around, reaching nothing but more sheets and pillows. "Arthur?"

The prince sat up and lit the candle, grumbling as he took the crying infant into his hands. He had no idea how to hold this thing. "Arthur, if you'd help me, that would be awesome." He suggested, eyeing the bathroom. If he wasn't in bed, he must be in the bathroom. After a few minutes of Arthur not coming out of the bathroom, Geoffrey had slipped back into slumber, of course after the prince changed his wet diaper. "Arthur, why are you taking so long in there? Are you okay?" Alfred sighed, a little concerned. He would have at least gotten a response. "I'm coming in." He warned as he twisted the knob, checking whether it was locked or not. It was open. He pushed open the door slowly, the room pitch black. from the light illuminating his room, he could tell the bathroom was empty.

Then where the hell was Arthur?

Alfred began to pace the room, racking his brain for any occasion where the brit might have woken him in the night and told him where to go. "He didn't tell me a thing." Arthur had, for as far as he knew, told him nothing. Alfred settled to look in the brit's belongings. Where did he go? How long has he been gone? While digging thoroughly through his things, Alfred found that a pair of Arthur's trousers, and warm shawl was missing, along with his boots. His boots? Did he leave the building? Alfred closed his eyes, his heart rate rising dangerously. What if he left the building in a trance? Or kidnapped? Alfred tugged on his boots and threw on his heaviest winter coat. Either way Arthur was outside and it isn't safe out there.

 _Maybe someone had seen where he had gone. Just because some clothes are missing, doesn't mean he isn't just hanging out with a few friends downstairs or by himself._ Alfred paused in his tracks, It's him again. He sighed, irritated but convinced that Allan was perhaps right.

"I'll ask around." He responded coldly.

* * *

 **4 hours later...**

Alfred and Davie were told to wait in the lobby as the police investigated their missing omegas. Neither Chancy or Arthur could be found, which was odd because Chancy was sent on a recon mission with no real danger, and Arthur was with Alfred in his room. Try as he might, Alfred had spent the first hour running around the mansion, asking people who happened to be awake whether or not they had seen a pale, short blond man with big eyebrows. After multiple dead ends, he had finally woken up his companions and John, the harold, to help him search. They had woken up more soldiers, and asked for their aid too. However, about an hour ago, where there wasn't even a single trace left of the two omegas, Alfred had decided to call the authorities. When The chief of police arrived, Alfred was all over, perhaps intimidating the small man. Matthew ordered him to sit in the lounge until he calmed down and got some rest, Davie opting to join him because he too was wallowing in self pity.

"I just... can't believe it." Davie whispered. "Where did they go?" Alfred turned to his friend and took in his pathetic appearance. He was shirtless, and his hair was a mess. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were pink. He wore black undergarments that left little to the imagination, and slip on shoes. The knight looked washed up, and he clearly had a hangover. "I'm..." He said as he stood up, stretching. "I'm gonna check on Geoffrey. Francis is probably annoyed by now." He said as he walked away. Alfred nodded as he looked up at the ceiling, pissed.

"Where did those idiots go?" He asked himself softly, his eyes dry from all of the tears he had shed while in search for his lover. His right eye was also a little swollen because Francis had to knock some sense into him a few times when he had gotten too anxious and reckless, foolishly declaring that he was going to the harbor to check the area. Davie had said that he would go too, but the knight was also hit in the face, and was reprimanded severely for going along with it.

As of right now, Alfred was at a loss.

 **OMG guys, longest chapter yet! What the hell is going on?! Where are they? Why are they taking so long?!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Arthur's POV...**

 **10:40 pm...**

Arthur's laid his head above Alfred's heart, focusing on the monotonous rhythm. He knew his mate was sleeping, sleeping people have a more steady and relaxed heart rate. This was his only chance, before Geoffrey would wake up. The real meeting was actually tonight at 11pm, not tomorrow, therefore, Chancy wasn't just scouting, he was going to fight Arthur's brothers. The brit was going to go of course, in case things went wrong, so he would be able to trade his freedom for Chancy's life. Of course Alfred would be furious, but what was Arthur to do, he couldn't let his friend die because he can't fight his own battles.

Arthur pulled away from Alfred gently, placing a soft kiss on his nose. "I love you." He whispered, hopefully not for the last time. he rolled off of the bed and stepped onto the floor which was freezing, and walked over to his closet. He had already set his clothes aside, so he quickly slipped on his pants, boots, and a thick sweater before throwing on his shawl. He dug into the bottom of his bag and brought out his dagger, the one he had acquired all those months ago, and slid it into his boot. He walked over to the crib and looked down at Geoffrey, who looked just about ready to wake up. His face was contorted, about to make a big fuss, but the brit couldn't have that. He picked up the baby and cradled him for a few minutes, kissing his face before finally, reluctantly, putting him down to rest for the remainder of the night. The room was pitch black, so he mainly had to feel around for the door. After a minute or two of sheer confusion, he felt the handle and turned it, leaving the room.

Now that he was out of his room, the hard part was finally upon him: getting out of the building without anyone seeing him. Alfred had told everyone to sleep in turns because there was a serial killer on the loose. Now, Arthur figured, there would be some people still awake, or some police still in the area. If he were caught, Arthur would never be able to explain himself in a way to not destroy what little independence he had earned. He walked slowly down the corridor, focusing on voices and footsteps, not wanting to run into anyone. He somehow made it to the stairs, but he could hear voices now, a group of men who were cheering obnoxiously among themselves. SHIT! The englishman took one step, flinching at the creek. The men seemed to have not noticed, so he continued down. After 4 or 5 steps more, the men got quite.

"What was that noise? Who is there!?" One of them called, and Arthur heard the shuffling of chairs and the stamping of feet. Holy shit. He wanted to run back up, but then the men would know which direction he was in, he would just have to lie if the catch him. After a few moments of anxiety, the men seemed to have returned to their seats, muttering. "It was just some mice, Eugene." One of them teased. Arthur sighed at the sound of their bickering, he was still safe. Walking, however, wasn't no longer an option, he had around 18 to 20 steps left. Perhaps he could... He threw one leg over the rail of the stairs and slid down, stopping just short of the end of the railing. He frowned as he got off, walking swiftly into the lounge. The way to the front door was through the lounge, but again, the men who heard him earlier were there, so he had to be careful to not be spotted. He kept to the darker parts of the lounge, grateful for the lack of lighting this time of night. He was able to walk around the perimeter of the room, if need be, hide behind some furniture. He finally made it to the front door opening it a sliver and squeezing himself out, the cold air an unpleasant shock.

He sighed relieved as he walked north, towards the harbor. Thank goodness he knew his way to the port. A staff member earlier that evening gave him directions under the misconception that he wanted to go there the next time he was in town. Arthur walked quickly, unsure of how long he had left until 11 pm. Hopefully, they hadn't started their battle yet. The air was freezing, but Arthur had a few layers on, so he was fine for now. He also had gloves, and a scarf, which he had taken from a rack in front of the door as he was leaving, last minute items that could prove to be useful.

After about 10 minutes of absolute silence, Arthur heard some rustling in the alleyway ahead of him. The brit stopped, alarms blaring in his head. Athur sighed, crossing the street and walking forward, not wanting to get snatched by a rapist or a homeless man. He still had his dagger, so he wasn't completely vulnerable, but he would prefer not to use it unless he was really in a tight spot. The smell of sea salt gave the brit an approximation of how far the harbor was, no longer than 4 minutes now. Hopefully the prince was still asleep and hadn't noticed his absence, or else all this effort would be for nothing. The closer he got to the harbor, the more he felt wary. Of course his brothers would be there, he knew that, so perhaps that's what he was feeling.

He could see the ship he arrived in now, he was less than a minute away from the harbor. The water, he could see, was sparkling and reflected the moon and stars. It was pretty, he thought, but he had more important things to do than watch the ocean. He felt the ground transition from dirt road to wooden docks. He barely had a chance to look around before he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. He was about to scream when a small hand covered his mouth, hushing him. Who was this? Was it one of his brothers!?

" _Arthur, you actually came_?" A familiar voice asked, and Arthur sighed in relief.

" _Chancy, are you okay?_ " He asked in French, ignoring the other's question. The brit wiggled out of his grip and turned to face his friend, who looked normal. " _Are my brother's here_?" He asked as he pushed a strand of hair out of Chancy's face, searching his eyes for any indicators of regret. Chancy shook his head.

" _You should hide though, they'll be coming soon. Be careful_." He said, shooing the other off. Arthur nodded and ran to the boat he arrived in, somehow climbing some hanging rope and landing on deck of the steam ship. He entered one of the cabins and sat on the bed, sighing. Now that he was here, he strained his ears for any sounds of stress, or conflict. He chose to hide in a room because if he were out in the open, his brothers would spot him and possibly kidnap him, or worse, use him as bait. He would never want to be that useless that his friends would have to walk into an obvious trap to save him.

After what felt like 15 minutes, Arthur heard a crash, and the boat he was in began to rock. "Shit" he mumbled as more crashes were made, the brit praying Chancy was okay.

* * *

 **2 hours later...**

The crashing was still going on, but less frequently, perhaps one every 4 minutes. The brit had had enough, standing and leaving the room. Chancy was being battered for 2 hours, no need for this to continue on, Chancy had done enough. As he stepped out onto the deck, he saw what appeared to be a massive wave rise. The englishman was going to run back inside, but then after another look, he realized it wasn't a huge wave, it was a huge hand, made out of water, that was holding someone. Arthur scanned around, eyes widening as he saw two bodies lying on the docks, and one standing nearby them, hand up menacingly in the direction of the giant hand. He must have been controlling it. Arthur forced his eyes to focus on the man on the docks, gasping as he finally recognized him to be Dylan, therefore the one being attacked was Chancy. Arthur began to hyperventilate.

Oh God, please protect Chancy!

" _What do I do? What do I do?_ " he muttered to himself in french. He looked up at the man struggling in the giant fist. " _How do I help him?_ " The world went blurry as doubled over, his stomach suddenly on fire. It was like that bad feeling he usually got in his gut, but this time more intense, and painful. What the fuck is going on?! He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to calm himself and focus through the pain. Whatever he was feeling, Chancy was feeling 10 times that. Maybe Arthur could throw something at Dylan and distract him long enough for Chancy to escape. Arthur ran back into the chamber and picked up a pouch of ink wells, some empty, some full. He ran back out and sat with his back against the railing of the boat, unseen. He turned and peeked his head out, picking up an inkwell and aiming for his brother. He threw it, and it landed nowhere near him. He quickly hid, terrified. Shit, what if he saw. He looked up again and sighed, the well landing too far for the other to notice.

Arthur threw again, but this time the well was full and the added weight allowed for there to be some manipulation by the wind without having it completely blown out of course. He smacked Dylan in the head, the well breaking and the ink scattering all over his face. To Arthur's amazement, the hand dropped. He had actually did something. Arthur crawled to the other side of the ship and peeked over. Chancy was swimming back to the dock, but awfully slow, Dylan would get the ink out of his eye at that rate. Arthur picked up another well and threw at Dylan again, not so lucky this time, hitting the man in the chest, causing him to fall backwards. Arthur jumped from the boat, using the rope to catch himself before he hit the floor, and snuck to the water, pulling the frenchman out. Chancy was panting. His pale skin, deathly white, teeth chattering. He looked as if he caught hypothermia. Arthur looked at the water, noting the ice blocks. Chancy probably did. Arthur, while Dylan was still blind, grabbed Chancy and ran to the other side of the dock, looking for an opened ship. Alas, not finding one, he settled on hiding behind some barrels.

Arthur took off his gloves and gave them to Chancy, not wanting his fingers to fall off. He slipped off Chancy's boots and peeled off his socks, ignoring the bruising on his leg and feet. He took off his own boots and gave his socks to Chancy, happy that he put on two pairs for extra warmth. He didn't have two pairs of boots on, unfortunately, so he was forced to give his up to the semiconscious male. Chancy's eyes were glassy, his cheek swollen, and lip busted. He rested his head against the brit's shoulder, writhing in pain.

" _I'm fine... go home"_ He groaned and the englishman hushed him.

 _"No, not without you. Besides, don't you want to go home too, to Davie and Geoffrey. If I leave you here like this, you'll die._ " Arthur whispered. " _It won't be long until they retreat. Dylan will give up search, opting to bring his brothers back to safety. When he leaves, we'll go. I'm proud you managed to take out 2 of them, and Dylan looked like he wasn't in good shape either. You did good, don't push yourself_." Arthur praised quietly, intertwining his hands with the other's for warmth. Chancy smiled softly at him before closing his eyes, falling unconscious.

"I don't understand, but I don't think I need to in order to understand you are a traitor." Arthur flinched as the barrel he was leaning on was pulled away and kicked to the side. Arthur grabbed Chancy and pulled him into his body, to shield him from whatever was next. Dylan glared at him, still wiping at the ink on his face. "So this dog is yours? You sent him after us!?" He yelled, taking a threatening step forward. Arthur inched toward his dagger, making fearful eye contact with his brother.

"You killed Elizabeta." The brit spat angrily.

"She betrayed us!" Dylan yelled. "We want to protect you, Arthur! Come ho-

"You killed that innocent bartender." The brit added, not even hearing the other's excuses. "You tried to kill my friend. You're trying to kidnap me. You're ruining my life, why won't you go away!?" Dylan scowled at him.

"It's not just about you. It's about vengeance, and restoration of the british crown!" Dylan looked at him with pleading eyes. "Hear me out." Arthur scoffed. "Or else I will kill you both." Arthur bit his lip.

"Fine."

"Mom and Dad, before they were, well, mom and dad, Dad was the ruling king of England, but he abdicated the thrown for unknown reasons. He had no kids because he wasn't married, all of his relatives were dead, so Parliament took over. He became a farmer, changed his name from Pendragon to Kirkland, where he met mom and had us. Arthur... we're royalty." Dylan explained, and Arthur frowned. The brit knew better than to rule anything out now, nothing was too ridiculous.

"So? What does that have to do with me?"

"We've been in contact with Parliament, they want to restore us, but they're still angry about the war. They want all persons of royal blood to return to England to crown us as princes to the public. If you stay, then we'll never get the throne." Dylan explained, and their eagerness suddenly made sense. However...

"What makes you think they're telling the truth? They can just round us up and kill us. There hadn't been a monarchy for years, what makes you think they'll be okay with limiting their power?" Arthur questioned. "You can't just put all your eggs in one basket." Dylan stared at him for a while before speaking.

"We know that." He said, hand on hip. "But this is our only chance to get England back to how it used to be." Arthur shook his head.

"No it isn't." He noted the way Dylan stiffened a bit, but he continued on. "As you know, I'm the crown prince's mate, therefore I have some influence over him. I've been thinking this for a while, but once we get married, I can just ask him to help Britain. Through loans, help in infrastructure, lowering protective tariffs, you know, things to help our economy. But now, if whatever you say is true, me marrying him would help with our legitimacy as the heirs of England, and even with Parliament against us, their power is limited because they no longer have the power to authorize the people's lives due to the war." Arthur explained. "Of course, that's just in theory." He added.

Dylan eyes warily, biting his lip. "I don't trust you."

"If you take me, Alfred will return to the island and take me back. They'll kill all of your men if they have to. Help Britain in a bloodless way, you won't win against the Americans." Arthur reasoned, and Dylan sighed, conflicted.

"Fine." He said, and Arthur cried out in happiness. "But, we're not going back yet. We'll lay low and watch you, and in a year, if we are not acknowledged as the legitimate heirs to the british throne, we're doing it our way." He sighed. "Deal?"

Arthur didn't even hesitate. "Deal." Dylan turned and walked away, towards his brothers.

* * *

 **30 minutes later...**

Arthur somehow opened the steamship and got chancy into a chamber. He pulled off his wet clothes and dressed him in warm pajamas someone had left behind. Chancy was no longer shivering, his color was a healthy hue, and his breathing wasn't labored, a good sign that he didn't have pneumonia. However, Arthur knew someone had noticed his absence now, and that both Alfred and Davie were worried sick. Arthur could handle Alfred's rage, but he wouldn't know how to cope with Davie's. He had lied to him about the encounter, and now Chancy was all bruised up, and it looked like a rib was broken. Davie would never forgive him, and would probably argue with Chancy, perhaps bar him from seeing Geoffrey. Arthur shook his head, Davie wasn't like that. He probably wouldn't talk to him again, but he would make it work with Chancy, so at least that was good.

Arthur shed some layers and snuggled in beside Chancy, allowing the other to bury his nose in his neck. The englishman yawned, closing his eyes, begging for sleep, but his neck was suddenly moist, and Chancy was sniffling. " _Chancy!_ " Arthur sat up, Chancy rolling away from him and curling into a ball. " _Chancy, what's wrong?_ " Chancy sniffled and hiccupped, rubbing at his eyes, apologizing. He tried to speak through his tears until he began to sob, all words lost on the brit. Arthur gave him some space, letting him get it all out. Another 10 to 15 minutes passed before the ice blond actually calmed down, burying his face in a pillow.

 _"Chancy?_ " The brit called again, and the frenchman ignored him, only offering a hand for the other to hold. Arthur took it hesitantly. " _What's wrong? Answer me._ "

" _I'm fine, petal. I just... thank you for saving me_." He mumbled from the pillow. Arthur told him to speak clearly, and so he did, lifting his eyes and turning to face his friend, wincing a little. _"I... I'm sorry for that, I don't really cry in front of others. I'm just... conflicted_." Arthur cocked his head to the left, frowning.

" _Conflicted? Why_?" Arthur asked.

 _"I... I'm happy that I came here and fought those guys for you, but I... tomorrow... Davie... he's..."_ He trailed off and his eyes watered again, his breathing heavy. Oh, Arthur understood now, he was also anxious for the next day, but... he shouldn't cry over it. _"He's going to be so angry with me."_ He continued and his voice cracked again. " _He's done nothing but love me, and I know him so well, but he knows nothing about me and that's not fair_!" Arthur gasped. He was completely wrong before, Chancy was upset about not telling Davie who he really was.

" _Just tell him then, Davie isn't the one to discard you just because you're magical."_ Arthur said confidently, and Chancy shook his head.

 _"You don't know that!_ " He cried. " _I'm too afraid to tell him!_ "

 _"Then don't!_ "

" _No, you don't understand..._ " Chancy let the tears spill as he looked up at the ceiling. " _I could have died today."_ He said slowly, letting his head hang. " _I could have died, and Davie wouldn't have known why or how or who I was._ " Arthur bit his lip, understanding now. " _I want him to love me yes, but if and when I die, I don't want his only perception of me to be false. I want him to love the real me, and I don't know if he will, so I'm scared. I don't want to hide this from him anymore, he's too good for lies."_ His breath was shaky, but he was breathing and that's all that mattered.

 _"If you think you're in hot water, wait till Alfred gets his hands on us._ " He chuckled, and Chancy hummed, lying down on his back. _"Get some rest, I'll wake you up when I do._ " Arthur assured, and the frenchman nodded.

* * *

 **That morning...**

The pair knocked on the door of the inn, not exactly excited for the day. The brit had tried to come up with excuses as to why he did what he did, but at the end he was still a liar. The door swung open and the bellman greeted them before recognizing them, eyes widening. He ushered them in quickly, the Frenchman's arm around the brit's shoulder because his ankle was sprained. Before they could take seats, the bellman ran out of the lounge, obviously to report that the two were safe and somewhat sound. Chancy was shaking, but Arthur knew he was screwed, so he was just waiting for the inevitable. Before long he heard running and heavy breathing, the smell of his alpha hitting his nose.

Chancy stood up and slowly hobbled towards his lover, who gingerly took him into his arms, scenting him. Chancy scented back half-heatedly, having a million things on his mind. Alfred, on the other hand, stared at him with empty eyes, taking the brit's face into his hands and searching his features. Arthur looked to the side, the other's eyes unnerving him. He had never seen Alfred so emotionless. He must have reached a new level of anger: indifference


	25. Chapter 25

Arthur explained it all to Alfred, how he left the mansion, how he hid in the ship, and how he had saved Chancy. He searched the other's face for any sign of emotion, but there was none. He also hadn't said a word, he was just staring at the brit the whole time, humming every now and then. Once the brit finished his story, there was an awkward silence before the brit spoke again. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I am sorry I left without warning. I needed to help Chancy or else I would never rest easy." Alfred blinked at him, crossing his arms. A few moments passed before Arthur sighed, standing up and walking towards the door. If he isn't going to respond, there won't be a repeat of their last blow out. He'll get attention from someone else. He was a foot away from the door when he felt, the other grab his arm, squeezing and yanking him back.

Arthur couldn't help but cry out, his wrist felt like it was breaking. His back crashed against the other's chest as he fell backwards. His heart raced as he turned to face his mate, eyes stinging. He wanted to pull his hand away, but he dared not do that. He bit his lip as he stared his mate in the eyes. Alfred had a blank expression, just squeezing the other's wrist. Finally, the brit couldn't take anymore. "Please..." He started as he pulled his hand gently. "You're hurting me, Alfred." The prince stared him down for a bit before letting go of his wrist. Arthur sighed in relief before he felt the American grab his waist. Arthur pressed his forehead on the other's chest, not really having a choice because the other was that much taller than him. Arthur half expected him to squeeze and crush him, but they just stood there as he cradled his wrist.

"I said I was sorry." Arthur muttered. "Please don't..." Arthur didn't know what to say next. Ignore him? Hit him? Hate him? "I'll make it up to you, I swear, just tell me how." he pleaded. The prince was much angrier than he anticipated. "Please."

"I don't need anything from you." He deadpanned. "I don't want anything from you." he continued. Arthur grimaced before slowly looking up into the other's eyes; they looked malicious. "All I wanted to do was keep you safe, yet... you disappear in the middle of the night to follow your friend. I was terrified, and not for the first time either. Ever since I've met you, all you've done was add unneeded anxiety into my life. Throughout the day I think about whether you're okay or not, and when I don't know what you're doing I get worried. I get sad when we argue, and I get angry when other people look at you. I empathize with people now, even when I say I don't, I do, and I feel bad for things I have every right to do." He said all this in very few breaths, Arthur noted. He must be trying to hold something back.

"I'm changing because you're making me change. I'm changing because you smile when I do nice things, and get mad when I make mean comments. I find myself, despite you not being around, making conscious choices based on what you would probably tell me if you were there. I would have never done that before, not for anyone because I have never... loved anyone. I love you, Arthur, and I'm trying my best to make you feel... the same way... but... you're not trying. You do what you want, and you... really don't care about how I feel. You're in your own little world and you never take into consideration how I would feel when you do these... reckless things and it hurts and I'm tired of feeling like this." He whispered, his voice cracking. Arthur looked up at him in horror. He isn't saying what he thinks he saying, right?

"Alfred, I... I... I don't understand..." His voice was trembling. "I love you too... I love you enough to turn my back on my brothers and move to a country that's full of people who would want me dead. So yeah, I admit I should consider your feelings more, and I'm sorry but... I do want to make our relationship work." He cupped the other's cheeks, and forced him to look down at him. "I love you, you have to believe me."

Alfred leaned into his hands, kissing the brit's forehead. "I know, Arthur." Arthur furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Arthur sat down on the bed, and the American did the same.

"Maybe I could come home before dark?" Alfred bit his lip in deep thought, as if he could still say something to add another caveat into the equation. "Alfred, that's all I'm giving up." He stated, and the prince hummed, looking to the side.

"I'm leaving." He said as he got up suddenly, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" They were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave.

"None of your business."

* * *

A few minutes passed and Arthur tucked himself into bed, groaning and sweating. That sharp pain he remembered from yesterday returned, and he was now unable to move even in the slightest. His body was warm all over, and the pains in his gut, he realized, were just cramps. Surely the pain would go away with a little rest, he told himself, but as minutes turned into a half hour he couldn't hold back his cries of pain. His body was on fire and his hair stuck to his face and neck in sweat. His thighs were wet, and his cramps traveled lower on his abdomen, almost just above his crotch.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit..." He groaned. "Alfred... Alfred!" He yelled finally. He didn't want to call out for his mate because he didn't know whether or not he was close by, and he didn't want a stranger coming in. He didn't know why, but he only wanted to see Alfred, his body was yearning for contact, his alpha's contact. "Alfred!" He called out again, brushing some hair out from his face and away from his neck. As he grazed his neck he felt a warm sticky substance oozing from his glands. He pressed down on the gland and he instantly regretted it, the cramps suddenly getting worse and his thighs getting significantly wetter. Arthur was too shocked by the pain to make the connection, but thank god he could hear someone turn the handle to the door. "Alfred!? Alfred!" He cried out again, forcing himself on his knees.

"Arthur? What..." Alfred closed the door behind him quickly and locked it, placing the tray of food on the dresser on the opposite side of the room. He remained by the dresser, daring not to get any closer. He stared at the brit, eyes slowly dilating, a deep growl vibrating throughout the room. Arthur moaned wantonly, slowly, despite the pain, crawling toward the foot of the bed to get closer to his mate. He purred desperately, beckoning the prince forward.

"Alfie... whats going on? Why are you just standing there?" He panted as he rested his face on the mattress, his leaking bottom standing up in the air. "It hurts Alfie, help me, please." Arthur moaned, he was so close to his mate, but his Alpha wasn't coming. He writhed in pain as his gut twisted. Would the cramps ever stop. "Alfred, please, please, I'm scared." Arthur was so lost in his self pity that he didn't notice his mate move, moaning as he suddenly felt the other's strong hands on his hips. Arthur blushed as a heat coursed through his body, the cramps slightly going down. Arthur sighed as he was flipped onto his back, looking up at wild blue eyes and a tight jaw.

"Baby, are you sure it hurts?" He asked, and Arthur nodded, wrapping his arms around his lover's neck. Alfred leaned over Arthur, licking the brit's gland, lapping up the liquid that was at this point squirting out of his body. The englishman moaned out, tilting his head to the side to offer more access. The prince latched his lips onto the sensitive skin, sucking and lightly biting, moaning as his lover tugged on his hair. The brit thrusted into his partner shamelessly, his member coming to life. The cramps were no longer hurting him, instead it became a soft pressure slowly ebbing away. The prince practically ripped his pants off, tearing his shirt also, earning a soft whimper from the brit. "Does it still hurt?" Alfred whispered, licking the now red glands gently.

Arthur shook his head. "No, not really." He said, a little dazed. "What's..." he trailed off as he felt something prodding his entrance. He bit his lip, hands still intertwined in the other's hair. "I think I'm moist enough for you to..." He started, but blushed wildly. He sounded so lewd, did he just say moist? What the hell is happening? "What's going on?" he said breathlessly as Alfred pulled away, repositioning himself between the other's legs.

"You're in heat." Alfred hummed, placing a hand on the other's knee. Arthur bit his lip. Really? "Isn't it great?" Alfred asked, slowly pushing in. Arthur nodded dumbly as he arched his back, breathing heavily.

"Does it normally hurt like that?" He asked, remembering the burning sensation. "It felt like I was being stabbed in the stomach over and over again." he whimpered as the other began to rock his hips. "Nngh... faster." He begged. Alfred thrusted in rapidly, each one deeper than the last.

"It...ugh... shouldn't hurt at all unless it's the first time." He explained, "But even then, it shouldn't feel like you're getting stabbed."

Arthur was barely listening, his moans coming out like half screams and his mind almost completely blank. "Harder!"He said mindlessly. "I love you" He whimpered desperately, nearing his climax. Alfred cupped his cheeks and offered a kiss, which the brit sloppily returned. The englishman turned his head to the side, giving the other complete access to his gland. "Bite me." Alfred slowed his pace just a for a minute before sinking his teeth down into the soft tissue, growling as he drew blood. At this point, it was way too much stimulation for the brit to handle, climaxing alongside Alfred.

* * *

 **6 hours later...**

Arthur felt sore and completely spent, but he knew better; he would be begging for another round in about 2 hours or so. Arthur had climaxed for a total of 13 times if he remembered correctly, and he would have climaxed more if the American hadn't stopped in the middle of sex to force feed the brit. Now it was another snack break, however, the brit felt bloated and he no longer wanted to eat. Alfred on the other hand was eating enough for two; trays and trays of steak and fruit were sitting on a cart ready for their consumption. Alfred downed a glass of wine before finally turning to the brit. Arthur watched him lazily, noting how the American stared at him unblinkingly.

"Yes?"

"What if Chancy hadn't won?" He asked, but he already looked as if he had the answer.

"I would have asked them to spare him in turn for my life." He answered honestly. Alfred scowled, and Arthur sighed, annoyed. "I'm sorry, I already said that I'm sorry but I'm still sorry. I won't lie to you about something like that again, I swear." He said as he dragged his upper body towards Alfred. The alpha grabbed him and scented him before burying his nose in his hair.

"You started your heat today. If you were to have gone with them, I wouldn't have been there to mate you." He said with a sad sigh. "Someone else would have took you as theirs." He continued, and Arthur understood. That could have been an unfortunate truth, yes, but it didn't happen.

"There's no need to get caught up in hypotheticals, Alfred. I'm here, right now, with you, in a nice room, surrounded by nice people. I'm sorry I worried you." He apologized again, and Alfred sighed heavily.

"I can't move you when you're in heat, it's dangerous. We'll have to leave when it's over." Arthur closed his eyes and nodded. He was getting tired, but he really should eat first, he didn't want to pass out in the middle of something. "You look tired, drink this." He said as he reached over to the night stand, handing the brit some water. Arthur drank it gratefully, handing the other back the cup, who put it aside. "Also, eat some fruit. Steak might make you feel bloated." Alfred said as he stood up, heading over to the cart.

"Too late." Arthur said, rubbing his stomach. The prince laughed, and the brit pouted. When he was handed the plate, the brit just stared at the selection of strawberries, blueberries and grapes. He really just wanted apples, but there weren't any. He groaned, handing the prince back the plate. "I want apples." He said softly. Alfred raised his eyebrows in shock before smirking.

"Alright, then. I'll get you some apples." He said, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the lips before heading to leave the room. Arthur chuckled, clapping.

"You need clothes before you go." He called, and Alfred shot him a playful smile.

"No I don't" He responded. He opened the door just a sliver before talking to someone on the other side. Arthur could hear Alfred clearly, but the person on the other side he couldn't see or hear at all."Yeah, hi, can I get some apples in here, sliced... Yeah, he won't won't eat anything unless they're apples... I wouldn't call him high maintenance, he just has basic needs... Oh, is that so..." Alfred paused for a very long time, whoever it was on the other side must have been talking verbosely. "Well," he whispered "that's too bad because I just mated him ma'am... Uh, I don't... Why yes, she is awfully pretty... I, uh, wow, that's cool, but I have no idea what to do with that information... I'm the next king, yes... No, I won't annul my relationship ma'am, but I'm sure your granddaughter will have no trouble finding a mate... all right, bye now, don't forget the apples." Alfred waved and closed the door, sighing in annoyance. He turned back to the brit, only to see the other bundled up in blankets, facing away from the door.

"Are my apples here yet?" He asked through the mass of blankets.

"I just ordered them." he said, flopping down on the bed and stroking the blankets. "What's wrong, does it hurt again?" Arthur crawled out from underneath the blankets and rolled until he was practically on top of the prince. The brit felt strong hands wrap around his body, which made him feel at ease; however, he still wore a frown.

"Who was that woman? Was she trying to convince you to mate with her granddaughter?" Arthur asked, and he ignored the look of amusement on the other's face. "It isn't funny, we had just mated and a complete stranger told you to leave me and mate with her granddaughter." He whined, and Alfred smiled.

"She was really old, and if I had been rude to her, you would have complained about it for hours." He said, resting his head against the backboard. "Also, just like you said, we just mated, so therefore, why would I want to leave you anyway? I had finally, officially, made you mine, not just on a spiritual level, but a physical one." His voice was light as he went on and on, Arthur entranced in how excited the other was. Was this really that big a deal? "This also means we can get married sooner, perhaps just days after my coronation, while everyone is still there. We don't have to prep for practicalities because you can give me a son now." He said dreamily.

Arthur looked up at him in shock. The coronation was in a couple of weeks, so their wedding was in a few weeks. Arthur's stupor slowly broke into a smile, eyes watering. He can also give Alfred a child; he can make him happy. Alfred tucked a strand of loose hair out of Arthur's face.

"Hopefully, he doesn't inherit your eyebrows." The prince said suddenly. Arthur was very taken aback, one hand lifting slowly and softly touching his eyebrows.

"Do you not like my eyebrows?" He pulled away a little, rolling off of the other. He somehow found strength to get off of the bed in the first time in hours, slowly walking towards the full length mirror. Alfred looked at him in mild shock.

"I love your eyebrows, it was just a joke." He said, climbing off of bed and joining the other by the mirror. They were both completely naked, but none took notice, the brit just stared at his own face in discontent. Alfred wrapped his arms around the other and rested his chin on his head. "I'm sorry, it wasn't funny. I swear, I love your eyebrows, and I'll be happy til the day I die if our son is born with them." He squeezed lightly, and the brit sighed, looking up at the other's reflection. "I love you."

"I love you too." Arthur mumbled before turning around and wrapping his arms around the other. "Carry me." He demanded, and the prince smirked. He took hold of the brit's thighs and lifted him, the englishman in turn wrapping his legs around Alfred's waist. They stood like that for a few moments, kissing and giggling when a knock on the door interrupted them. "Coming!" Arthur called as he hopped down, but a quick growl from Alfred lead him to wait on the bed instead of answering the door. Alfred was getting protective.

Alfred opened the door a little bit and took the tray of apples. "Thank yo-... No, I will not be leaving the future mother of my child for your granddaughter. Thank you, and have a nice day." He closed the door quickly, stared at the door for a little bit, probably recuperating, and turned, handing the plate to the brit. "Enjoy my love." he said as he sat down. "Once you finish, try and get some rest." He muttered as he pulled out some paperwork. Arthur growled, but unlike Alfred's growl, Arthur's was more like a soft rumble, hardly threatening. The American noticed anyway and tilted his head towards the brit. "Yes?"

"I'm in heat, and you're working." He spat, setting aside his plate. Alfred smiled softly.

"Arthur, if you don't eat you'll end up passing out halfway through sex. Same result if you don't utilize every free moment for sleep. I'm just checking off on some stuff before you start your secretions again, okay. Go to sleep." He advised as he kissed the brit's forehead softly. "But before that, eat." he iterated, grabbing the plate and giving it back to the brit.

* * *

 **2 hours later...**

The two panted heavily as Alfred peeled himself off of the floor. They had just done it in front of the full length mirror and Arthur had just finished riding him. Arthur hissed as he stood, his knees raw. "Let's save this for another day, yes love?" Arthur suggested as walked over to the bed, throwing himself on top of the sweaty covers.

"Yeah, sure."Alfred said as he stood, stretching like a cat. "Another round or snack break?" Alfred asked, walking towards the brit. Arthur paused, debating.

"Another round." He said as he opened his legs, giving the other a seductive smile. Alfred smiled back, leaning over and kissing the brit passionately. Soon the kisses began to trail down to his neck, then his chest, and eventually his very red member. Alfred eyed it for a minute before shrugging, licking the side of the organ. Arthur moaned out carelessly. Alfred swirled his tongue on the tip of the muscle before putting it in his mouth. Arthur arched his back, shoving his hands in the other's hair, holding his head in place. Alfred gagged a few times before the brit tugged his head away for a few breaths, only to shove his member back into the other's mouth.

The brit didn't know when he began to fuck his mouth, but soon he was thrusting uncontrollably into his orifice. Alfred occasionally bobbed his head, but for the most part, Arthur was in control. After a few more pumps Arthur climaxed without warning, Alfred coughing hysterically. He managed to swallow it however, which earned him a pat from his mate.

"Can we... snack break now?" he panted, and the brit nodded, once again spent. "Thank goodness, that last one really took it out of me."

* * *

 **7 days later...**

Arthur had his head in Alfred's lap for the last two hours, listening to the soft chirping of birds and the distinct high pitched voice of Chancy, shouting orders in French. They are on the road now, they left New York a day ago, and Alfred claimed they were making good time. Davie and Francis took half of the soldiers by boat, and the rest were with Alfred and Chancy, travelling by carriages. Well, Alfred and Arthur were traveling in a carriage, the rest were usually riding horses around the wagon they were in. Arthur's heat had stopped two days ago, and his bottom still aches. Occasionally Alfred would message him, but that was just a temporary fix, the dull pain would always return.

" _No breaks! Get your lazy ass to the front_!" Chancy yelled in french, followed by the sound of shuffling feet. Arthur had gotten a hang of this multi language power thing he had going on. He could understand and speak to Chancy at will, and could easily flip back to english once Alfred or Matthew tried to talk to him. Throughout the day Arthur could hear Chancy yell and insult his subordinates into submission, and Arthur finally understand why they called him a hardass behind his back. Chancy sounded absolutely terrifying, but whenever Arthur would poke his head out, Chancy had the same stoic face he always had on, the same super adorable face. Arthur sat up and leaned his head against the cart window, looking at the scenery. They had just left a small town a few hours ago, and know they were on a dirt trail cutting through the woods. The trees were a vibrant green, and they were very tall, as tall as the trees in the forest Sauvage. As he continued to look out of the window, two french soldiers and their horses began to gallop near it, talking to each other, not noticing the other's presence.

 _"I swear, I can't wait for what's his face... The American Chancy is seeing... Davie?_ " One asked. The other shrugged. " _Yeah, well him. I can't wait for him to come back_." Arthur furrowed his brows, why would they care about Davie?

 _"Yeah_ " the other said, chuckling. " _Ever since he's come around Chancy was nice and... don't tell anyone, and really cute._ " He admitted with a soft blush.

" _Yep, but now that he's gone Chancy is crankier than I've ever seen him. Maybe the sex was **that** good._ " he chuckled, and the other scoffed.

" _Oh please, if I had an hour with Chancy and some chocolate, I would make him forget about that stupid American_ " He laughed as he said it, but Arthur could sense the tension in his voice. Apparently he wasn't the only one, because the other soldier patted his shoulder.

" _We all want the chance that stupid American had, but now it is too late! He mated Chancy, just as I was about to start courting him_ " he said with a sad sigh. Arthur smirked. Chancy really is popular. " _But since I was too late, I hope he can come back soon and sleep with him already, I'm tired of the yelling_." The pair began to speed up and they became out of earshot in a matter of moments. Arthur flopped back down on Alfred's lap, the prince humming in mild annoyance. He was reading some paperwork, and he really didn't want to deal with Arthur's antics.

"No, not right now, Arthur, I'm busy. Go to sleep or play eye spy or something." he said without looking up at his mate. Arthur growled softly to himself as he sat away from the other, huffing. He was awfully bored, how could Alfred just leave him like this? Ugh it's all because of his stupid work. Arthur, in his rage, began to mumble to himself.

"Yeah, choose work over me." he muttered, staring out of the window. "Lock me in a box with nothing to do, while you read the same clause 4 times over because you don't know what a word means and you're trying to figure it out using context clues. The nerve! All I want is attention, and all you're doing is staring blindly at an asterisk because you don't want to wear your glasses. Play eye spy, you say, but what the fuck is a eye spy, what sorcery is that? I'm definitely not going to sleep, it'll ruin my sleep pattern. Do you want me to ruin my sleep pattern?! Do you-"

"Arthur, I can hear you loud and clear." The brit flinched, turning slowly to face the other. The prince had an amused look in his eye, but the smile he had on looked false. Arthur sucked his teeth before huffing loudly, looking out of the window.

"I can hear you loud and clear" He mocked in a cheap American accent. "I'm Alfred Jones and I have happy eyes but a fake smile that makes me look deranged." He continued, ignoring the warm feeling in the back of his head. Alfred was getting mad. "I'm Alfred Jones, and I creepily stare unblinkingly at the side of my mate's face when I get angry." He egged. "I'm Alfred F. Jones and I prioritize my work over my relationship. Also, since I'm a big momma's boy, I-"

"Arthur... I'd choose my next words wisely if I were you." He said coldly. Arthur faltered before asking himself what the other was really going to do.

"I"m Alfred F. Jones, since I'm a momma's boy I adopted my mother's cowardly technique of empty threats so I can use them against people who offend me." He said. It wasn't what he originally going to say, but he figured calling him and his mother a bunch cowards would piss him off more. Arthur heard shuffling of paper as he laughed, but his laughter was cut short by strong hands grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to lay flat on his back. He tried to struggle, but the heat in the other's eyes told him to stay still, causing him to struggled even more. "No fair, you're bigger than me!" He grunted as he was pinned down, and the American had a distant look on his face. "Are you okay? You look ill." He inquired, but Alfred only smiled, letting go. Arthur sat up and scooted far away from the American, unsure of what he was planning. A few minutes passed before before he heard whispering from the American. The brit strained his ears in order to hear, and he picked up everything the other was saying.

"He is so rude, that brat. I'm not the only one who could be roasted on some petty shit." He silently cleared his throat and whispered. "My name's Arthur Kirkland," He said in a, Arthur had to admit, decent british accent. "And I have to go by Pendragon because my father was a failed rebel who ended up getting dying in an explosion because he foolishly thought he could steal American cannons and use them without special training." Arthur flinched. That's how his father died? He had heard it was an assassination attempt, did he really die in an explosion? Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but Alfred continued to quiet drabbles.

"My name's Arthur, and I keep complaining about how shit my life could be once in the castle even though my life was actually shit in the tunnels." He continued to mock. "My name's Arthur and I keep demonizing my mother in law because she's protective of her son, but I wouldn't know what that looked like because my mother couldn't keep a job and left me on the streets." Arthur felt his heart skip a beat... What? He was going for dead parents, two can play at that game.

"My name's Alfred Jones" Arthur said loudly. "And I whisper louder than I cried over my father's dead body." Arthur should have stopped there, but he continued. "I'm Alfred Fitzgerald Jones! And I think I can fight anyone and anything even though 4 months ago my mate's brothers killed some of my closest friends." The words burned as he spoke them, but he said more and more. "I'm Alfred fucking Fitzgerald Jones! and I-"

"Stop the carriage!" Alfred ordered suddenly, and the cart slowed to a stop. The brit barely had time to process what was going on before the American glared at him. "You're ALFRED FUCKING FITZGERALD JONES AND YOU WHAT?! I FUCKING DARE YOU TO FINISH!" he yelled. He was angry, no doubt, and Arthur bit his lip. "What?! You have nothing to say?!" Arthur scoffed.

"GIVE ME A MINUTE SO I CAN REALLY GET YOU ANGRY!" He yelled back, think of something, anything to challenge his mate. Alfred shook his head.

"While you're thinking, I'll say another... My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I make jokes about other people's deceased parents despite me not having any of my own." He hissed, and Arthur barred his teeth. "My name's Arthur Kirkland, and I read books with a lot of dialog because it makes me feel like I'm included in actual conversations." Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but Alfred cut him off. "My name's Arthur Kirkland and I still get angry when things don't do my way, which is weird because nothing since I was 10 years old ever gone my way." Arthur felt his eyes water, that bastard was gonna get it. "My name's Arthur Kirkland, and I don't want to go with my brothers because deep down I fear that they'll end up like Peter, dead at the hands of the Americans, and discarded in the forest with a tiny grave marker-"

The American didn't even have a chance to finish, the brit silencing him with a single firm slap across the cheek. Did he really bring Peter into this? Arthur was so angry that he swung again, but this time the slap didn't land, the American caught it just in time to save himself. However, the brit had two hands, and he used his left hand to swing with everything he's got into a single closed fist. It landed, fortunately, and the prince let go of his hand, instead cradling his face. The brit didn't wait for the other to speak, he forced the door open and he hopped out, not caring for the staring soldiers who had to stop because of them. Matthew was among the crowd, and he tried to approach Arthur, but the brit darted into the woods. He ran and ran, despite his dress being snagged in the brambles and such. He could hear Alfred call out for him, but screw that guy, if Arthur ever saw him again he'd drown him.

* * *

 **1 hour later...**

The Brit sat in a clearing for about 15 minutes, a full 45 minute run away from the carriage. He sat on a wooden log, rewatching the argument in his head. Arthur had to admit, he shouldn't have started mocking the prince. Well, even then, he shouldn't have mocked his mother. Looking back, It was when Arthur mocked his mother did Alfred get angry, but in Arthur's defense, he just called her a coward. Alfred didn't have to come at his mother like that. His mother was an omega, so that's why she was unemployed. Also, his mother loved him dearly, she didn't just leave him on the streets, she was arrested and thrown in prison.

The prince had the option of stopping there, but then he came for his father. As Hammurabi once said, an eye for an eye, so if he talked about his father, it should go both ways. Arthur realized now that that was a stupid excuse for him to bring up the late king, and he truly does regret it. He said it out of maliciousness and, unlike Arthur, Alfred only had a few months to grieve over his father's death. Alfred clapped back though, Arthur doesn't really remember with what, but he knew it included Peter and no one talks about Peter. He slapped and punched Alfred, which made the brit feel sick now that he thought about it. He put his hands on his mate; that was wrong.

The back of his head was a mix of worry, remorse and anger, so he knew he and Alfred were on the same page. He could also tell the American was getting closer, his presence getting stronger by the second. He wanted to apologize to him, but at the same time, he didn't want to either. How could he face him after that? The brit acted like a brat from the start, all the other wanted to do was get some work out of the way. Arthur sighed, standing. He might as well meet them halfway.

He began walking in the general direction of the road, basing his location on how far his mate seemed to be. After 10 minutes or so, he could here voices. He stopped and crouched behind a tree, waiting, not sure whether they were friend or foe. He felt Alfred nearby, though, so perhaps it really was him.

"I said it's none of your business." Alfred barked stomping his feet. "Arthur should be around here somewhere, I can feel him." His companion sighed.

"Alfred, whatever it was." Matthew, arthur recognized, said. "You need to resolve it out here. Don't bring it back near the soldiers." He said as he walked away, presumably back to the carriage. After a few moments Arthur crawled out from behind the tree and stood up, dusting himself off.

"There you are." The American sighed, slowly approaching the englishman. Arthur looked down, nervous.

"I'm so sorry. I crossed the line completely and from the bottom of my heart I-"

"It's okay." Alfred said quickly, shaking his head. "I escalated it by bringing up your mother. I'm sorry." He apologized, which only made the brit feel worse. He shook his head wildly, taking a few steps back, away from his mate.

"No, you don't need to apologize. I started it because I'm a brat with nothing better to do. I apologize for demonizing your mother, and that thing I said about your father was disgusting, and mocking your dead friends was beyond rude. I'm... I know that by this point my apologies are tiring, and that I should probably work on myself... so, I won't bring them up ever again, and I'll get along with your mother if I have too, and I won't make anymore scenes and I'll give you space if you need it! I'm just... really really sorry that I said that." He didn't look up once, but he could hear the other walk closer. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt warm lips press against his hair. Strong hands cupped his cheeks and tried to force the other to look at him, but the brit resisted. He didn't want to look in the other's eyes and still see disappointment.

"Arthur," The other sighed, slightly annoyed. "Look at me. You can't just say all of that and not look at me." He said, bending down so he could see the other's face. "I'm happy that you're willing to change, but you can't just stop being dramatic, it's unrealistic. Besides, I can usually handle your banter, and I admit I handled it very poorly this time." He said with a brush on Arthur's cheek. "You were just teasing in a very bad American impression, I took it too personal. I shouldn't have mentioned your dad." Arthur's eyes were still closed, but he could tell that the other was really speaking from the heart. He also didn't feel angry anymore. The brit sighed heavily, opening his eyes slowly to see bright blue ones only inches from his face. The eyes were accompanied by a dazzling smile, and two very red cheeks, which instantly made the brit feel worse.

"I'm sorry," he started as he cupped the other's cheek, caressing them lightly. "I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry for hitting you." The prince put his hands over the others as he rubbed, leaning in.

"It's fine." He chuckled. "It just goes to show that my self-defense lessons weren't wasted." He said, holding onto his mate's waist. "But we should get going, it's been an hour or so and the next town in far away." Arthur nodded, hands still on the other's face. They stood there like that for a minute or so before the American chuckled awkwardly. "We really need to go, babe."

"Mhmm." Arthur said, still not letting go. Alfred groaned before scooping the other into his arms, bridal style, and walking. The englishman gasped in shock, but soon relaxed, hands still on the other's cheeks. His cheeks were very warm, but the brit had a feeling that putting his hands there would help him. Who knows, perhaps he can heal minor bruises. After 20 minutes or so, they arrived to the road, the soldiers sitting on their packs, laughing and resting. Arthur guessed they utilized their time by taking a break, one that Chancy refused to give them.

Once back and settled in their carriage, Alfred ordered for the journey to commence. The brit kept his hands on the other's face, despite the American's mildly annoyed looks. After 15 minutes, while the prince was reading some papers, the caressing become annoying, the prince releasing a deep growl that caused the other to flinch away in a brief panic. Realizing what he had done, the prince scrambled to apologize, but the brit laughed it off, really focusing on the other's face. His cheeks, they weren't red anymore, and the small bruising that was starting to form from the punch had left no trace. He giggled in glee.

Alfred went back to reading and the brit continued to look out of the window. He had really healed his cheeks. This magic thing wasn't too bad. "I think I fixed your cheeks." He said with a warm smile staring out at it. "What's eyespy?" The brit asked suddenly, remembering the other's earlier suggestion. He heard Alfred hum a little bit before answering.

"I'll explain when I'm done. But... can you give me your opinion on this request?" Arthur quirked his brow, the other never really included him in on his paperwork. However, he nodded. "So, Gil and Ivan are coming as a pair to my coronation. Gilbert has a brother named Ludwig who is engaged to Feliciano of Italy. Ludwig still wants to petition Gilbert's engagement to Ivan, saying that his brother is being blackmailed. He wants me, during the coronation, to send people to Ivan's room to filter through his stuff in order to find evidence of blackmail." Alfred explained some of the background information. "Should I help him?" Arthur blinked.

"What happens if you say yes?" He asked. Surely a request this invasive will have a significant reward. Alfred shrugged.

"It's just a favor." He said with a wave of his hand. Arthur tilted his head.

"That's quite a favor. Then I'm assuming if you say no, nothing will happen." Alfred nodded. "Well then, decline." The brit said bluntly. Alfred sighed, sinking in his seat.

"Why?" He asked, looking over to his mate. Arthur shrugged.

"If you get caught, consider your ties with Russia shot. I know that tensions are a little high already, so breaking into his room and trying to find documents won't help at all." Arthur huffed, resting his head in his hand. "Also, what if your friend is wrong? What if Gilbert really does want to marry Ivan now that he's gotten to know him? The accusation Ludwig is making is quite serious. I assume that the marriage between Ivan and Gilbert was for practical reasons like money, resources, power, peace etc. I think you should keep your nose out of it, it's bound to get sticky." In theory, of course, Arthur knew very little of politics, but he felt it was reasonable to say that this won't stay a secret. Alfred stared at him intently before nodded, pausing with a frown,

"But what if he's right?" Alfred suggested, which caught the brit off guard. "What if he's right and his brother is being blackmailed into the marriage? Ludwig is perhaps the most calculating person I've ever met, he wouldn't make this claim unless he had grounds to conclude it. Foreign relations or not, if someone were blackmailing my brother I'd petition too." Arthur hummed in agreement, flicking his hair back.

"This could also be a trap. The U.S is a superpower, and Ludwig could just be setting you up to be the instigator in all of this." He suggested flatly, turning to look out of the window. The American sat silent for a moment before sighing.

"That would make sense actually..." He mumbled to himself silently. "If Gilbert and Ivan really get along, they might want control of my islands in the Pacific. Gilbert could easily get Ludwig on board, and he, in a perfect world, would get me to break into Ivan's room. I would be accused of trying to steal confidential government plans from Russia, and my reputation would be marred. From there, Ludwig could use Feli to sway the rest of Europe to their side, forming a coalition against me. Once that happens, I'm screwed." He surmised darkly, and the brit couldn't stop himself from grabbing the other's hand in worry.

"Please don't over analyze this. I doubt he's setting up a plan that elaborate if he could just accuse you of blowing up his ship." Arthur felt bad, he shouldn't be filling his head with doubts. "Don't strain your pretty little head of yours, you should be enjoying your last few weeks as a prince with relatively no responsibility." He chuckled and the prince nodded, though he still seemed a little off. He needs a distraction. "How do you play eyespy? You said you'd teach me." Alfred's features suddenly lit up, and he smiled widely.

* * *

2 hours later...

"Alfred, literally there is nothing else here that can be green. It's either the trees or grass!" Arthur stared out the window searching the scenery. Alfred shook his head.

"I saw what I saw, I thought it would be obvious to you, but I guess not." He said smugly, trailing his hand down the other's back. Arthur let out a frustrated groan. "You don't like losing, huh?" He mocked, and the brit couldn't hold back his laugh.

"It took you four months to notice? You really aren't the brightest-Oh!" He stopped mid-sentence to swat the other's hand away, which had began to pinch the parts of Arthur's back that was exposed. "I, before meeting you, have never lost a game in my life. My father had always let me win." he continued. Alfred stopped pinching and pulled the other into his lap, giving him his full attention. "They figured that since I was an omega, I wouldn't be able to handle losing well. So whenever I wanted to join my brothers' wrestling match, they would somehow collapse on contact, and when my father was a big scary dragon, the flower in my hand was enough to defeat him and save the princess, my mother."

"That's sweet." Alfred said with amused eyes. He was probably imagining a miniature Arthur running around with a sunflower, chasing around a man three times his size. "What did your dad look like?" Alfred asked suddenly, and the brit paused, eyeing in confusion. "You don't have to tell me, but I'm curious about where you got your eye brows from." Arthur scrunched up his nose before answering quickly.

"I got my eyebrows from my mother." He sighed. "She had my eyebrows, but unlike me she'd shape them so people couldn't tell. All of my siblings got them, but none of us got her hair color. Peter had dirty blonde hair, sort of a combination of my mother and father. My mother, Igraine, had brown curly hair, and my father, Uther, had blonde straight hair; Peter, Dylan, and Seamus inherited for the most part his hair color and texture. I got my father's hair color, but my mother's hair texture." he explained, leaning into the other's person. He could see them now, his parents, and how they looked before the war; so fresh, so happy.

"Who do you look like the most?" Alfred asked. Arthur shrugged.

"Um... probably my mother because I have very soft features. However, her nose was a tad big." Alfred nodded, and the brit continued. "Allister got his hair color from my grandmother from my father's side. I've never met her, but I've seem some portraits; she was gorgeous. Try to imagine this: Fiery red hair, pale skin, ice blue eyes and a contagious smile. We all got our eyes from my mother, except for Peter, who got them from my father."

"That reminds me, the answer was your eyes, but you were too dense to figure it out." Alfred interjected, and Arthur scoffed.

"That's sappy." He said with a quick kiss to his nose. "Anyway... My father used to be a soldier or whatever, and, wait actually no" suddenly remembering what Dylan had just told him. There was no harm in telling his mate. "He was the last King of England who abdicated the throne and bought a big house near the coast."

"What?"

"I know, crazy right? That's why my brother's came all the way to kidnap me, we're the next heirs to the throne and all of us need to be present in order for one of us to be crowned." He laughed half-heartedly. "Ridiculous if you ask me! My father left for a reason, why would we go back?" The englishman glanced at the prince only to find him staring at nothing. "What is it? Is it really that hard to sink in? I'm a witch, but the fact that I'm royalty is sending you off of the deep end?" Nothing should come as a surprise anymore.

"You're... you're... Ohhh this is bad!" He muttered to himself, setting the other aside. What? What was bad? He wanted to ask but the look of panic in his eyes warded the brit off. "This is awful... Why?" he said suddenly, looking at the brit with exhausted eyes. "Why didn't you tell me this before we mated?" Arthur swore he felt his heart fall into his stomach.

"What? Would that have changed your reaction or something?" He asked softly, not wanting to know the answer. The American stroked his face to calm himself down.

"Are you sure you are royalty?" He asked. Arthur shrugged.

"Dylan told me that the night I went to the harbor." he answered. "Is there a problem?" Alfred closed his eyes for a moment.

"You need a new cover story."

"What? I can't, I just told everyone that I was distantly related to the Kirklands." Arthur hissed, and the prince shook his head.

"Doesn't matter, you're royalty. Before royals could mate, their legal guardians must be present in order to conduct a contract or treaty. Also, the consummation must have at least three witnesses... if not it's seen as a war crime."

"What?!"

"Yeah, so now you're Arthur Pendragon, the estranged son of the king of England who was raised by Arnold Pendragon. You have no personal ties to the Kirklands, but you are a direct heir to the throne. You and I knew about this all along, and Francis, Matthew and Davie saw us consummate the marriage, okay? Go with that for now until I can think of something better." he swore, grunting as he pulled at his hair. Arthur bit his lip. Did they really just commit a war crime?

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, babe. You couldn't have known. But, this means we probably won't be able to have our wedding in a few weeks." He sighed remorsefully. Arthur nodded, that was fine with him. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?" Alfred asked. Arthur racked his brain.

"Uh... I have the ability to understand and speak French at will." He offered, and the American stiffened. "Il est si difficile de contrôler une fois que je l'ai utilisé quelques fois." He explained with a shrugged and Alfred looked mortified. "I said it got easier with practice." He translated. The prince stared at him for a while.

"Is it only french?"

"I don't know, I've only ever been around French so far. I can try it out once in the capitol." he offered with a shrug. The prince groaned.

"This is a lot for one day, actually. I think I'm gonna nap."


	26. Chapter 26

**That night...**

Arthur's palms were very sweaty as he revised the new cover story in his head. Alfred had dreamt one up that made perfect sense, so Arthur was going by that one now, despite disliking it. Matthew and Chancy were both in his carriage now, Alfred sitting next to him, holding his hand. Matthew and Chancy looked worried, unknowing about the news the brit so urgently had to tell them. He wanted to be completely honest, but that would just complicate things, he really had no choice but to lie again.

"I lied to you guys." He sighed, combing his hair out of his eyes. Matthew quirked his brow as he opened his mouth to translate, Arthur cutting him off in order to do it himself. "J'ai menti Chancy." Matthew's eyes widened in shock, and Chancy was forced to feign surprise. "Alfred already knows the story, so I'll just say it in French, okay?" He stared at his hands, not looking up to meet the other's gaze.

" _The story I said in the lounge wasn't entirely a lie, but some of it wasn't true. My real father is Uther Pendragon, better known as Uther Kirkland._ " He explained, and both frenchmen gasped genuinely. " _He was the last reigning monarch of england before he abdicated the throne. He had bought a big house on the coast, and changed his name to Kirkland. He started a family, but when he found out I was an omega, he sent me to live with Arnold Pendragon, a distant cousin of his. Arnold raised me since I was 4 years old up until I was 14, he taught me multiple languages. Then suddenly he sent me to London to live with an associate. I didn't lie about about him sending me away because he feared The Americans would find out about his involvement with the rebel group. By then I knew about my true family by the coast, and I wanted nothing to do with them_." He paused in order to let that sink, the only noise being the soft canter of horses.

" _What about Peter_?" Matthew asked, a hint of anger in his voice. " _Was he really your brother?_ " he whispered. Arthur could understand his anger, he had lied to them.

" _Peter was indeed my brother, and we were reunited at Sir. Ector's house_." he explained flatly, ignoring the copper taste in his mouth. " _He was raised by our father unlike myself, so I didn't know Peter all that well. I was going to leave London by myself , but I had received a letter from my father, Arnold not Uther, to stay put, that the Americans were searching his documents. So I stayed, then the plague, and the Americans came back..._ " he trailed off, waving his hands in a rolling motion. " _Then that brings me to the tunnels. Everything I said about the tunnels were true, I made nothing up about that. Peter was disabled, but he wasn't disable the whole time, he caught an infection when we were in the tunnels that resulted in him becoming practically mute save for some sounds. He broke his foot when were were homeless in London after Ector died, we couldn't afford to hire anyone who knew how to fix it. Eventually, it had healed in place, and the physician said he was better off with the hobble than rebreaking it_." He explained. He didn't even know if that made sense, but the prince was dead set on that tidbit.

" _let me get this straight,_ " Matthew spoke up for the first time in a few minutes. "Y _ou met Peter in London, found out he was your brother, lived on the streets, he broke his foot and was left with a hobble, you were drove into the tunnels where Peter caught an infection making him a mute_?" Arthur swore under his breath, it didn't sound very realistic when he put it that way.

" _Yeah, pretty much_." Arthur shrugged the discomfort off. " _Also,_ " Now this was the tricky part of the story. " _I left the tunnels well before Peter and made it home to Lancashire_." he said quickly, and he quickly elaborated once flashes of confusion crossed their faces. " _I left the tunnels 6 months before Peter had been taken out, and I returned two months before I met Alfred for the first time_." Matthew scowled, but Arthur explained. _"I went to my father and begged him to do something, what was going on in the tunnels was awful, and we needed the Americans to leave. With what little resources he had left, he contacted the remnants of my father's group and told them to anonymously leave the King of America a letter with some ... negotiations._ "

" _What negotiations_?" Chancy interrupted.

" _My hand in marriage,_ " The brit said meekly. " _It sorta made sense. I was the prince of England and having me married into the American royal family will allow the U.S to develop a sphere of influence in Britain while also having my people liberated. Uh... a few months went by and we had finally received a letter from the king, stating that he wanted to see me first before he said anything else_."

" _You were in contact with my father?_ " Matthew asked in a daze. The brit nodded, not sure else what to do.

" _Yes, and the letter had specific instructions. Two soldiers would pick me up from the tunnels and transport me to his fortress where he'd meet me there. He didn't give a date, but just to be safe, I left the day I received the letter._ " He paused. " _... Then, once in the tunnels, I found Peter, gave him some food I had brought along with me, and we waited. He was so angry when he saw me, he thought that I had abandoned him, so I told him everything, every last detail about the plan. I needed him to believe me_." he mumbled.

" _Eventually, they came, and Peter and I were separated. My escorts were Dennis and Kevin, and they were going to take me to the king... at least that's what I thought. I overheard at night when they thought I was sleeping, they were actually planning on delivering me to the rebel group itself, not the king. That's when I knew something was off, so I left that morning, right under their noses._ "

" _What about Peter?_ " Matthew asked, and Arthur nodded.

" _I was just getting to that. I ran into a beaten American knight and I helped him. When he told me he was Prince Alfred Jones, I knew I had to keep him alive as long as possible, the fate of England depended on him._ " he sighed a little bit. _"He was also my ticket to meet his father, so he could quickly arrange our marriage, but when we got there, he was dead, everyone was dead. Then everything made sense. The people my father got to send the letter betrayed us, killed the Americans, and were planning on taking me myself. At the time I didn't know why they would want me, but I knew they di_ d." That's pretty much it really. Matthew growled angrily.

"So what you're saying is that you lied the whole time." Arthur flinched back at the harsh tone.

" _No! Not the whole time.._." he looked up for the first time to a pair of very red eyes, Matthew was on the brink of tears. " _After a few days of staying in the fortress I came clean to Alfred, and we had this really big argument. Matthew, do you remember the time I fell into that coma because I was outside at night and caught pneumonia or something? I was outside because I had told him the truth and he got so angry at me that I... panicked. I left in pursuit of my adoptive father, but I collapsed in the snow._ " Matthew eyed his brother in shock, a sneer on his face.

" _Why didn't you tell us earlier!?_ " He barked, and the prince flinched. He was dozing off and the sudden yell snapped him back to attention.

"Uhh, what part of story are you...?" He asked, confused. "I don't speak french Mattie..." he chuckled nervously.

"The part when you found him in the middle of the forest at night, barely clinging to life." Matthew sighed, holding his head. "Arthur..." He started, and the brit held his breath. "Why are you telling us this?" He asked this in english, and Arthur resorted to french.

" _Because you're my friends and I love you guys._ " He offered. Chancy said a silent prayer before nodding his head, Matthew slowly nodding too.

"You're right, you are our best friend, and I wish you didn't lie, but I understand why you did." He said slowly, rubbing at his eyes. "But do you understand the trouble you are in now? You mated a few days ago without my mother's consent."

"We have dad's permission." Alfred said, and Matthew frowned.

"No you don't." He deadpanned.

"Yeah, I do. A letter was found on his person addressing the matter, stating that he couldn't force either of his kids to marry, so if Arthur could convince either of us to marry him, that'll be fine by him. Of course there were some details I skimmed over, but that was the jist of it." He explained, and Matthew furrowed his brows.

"Where is it?" Alfred paused for a moment, hand on his chin, deep in thought before gasping in panic. He looked around rapidly before pausing, laughing at himself.

"I got scared for a second because I forgot where it was. John has it. He's been keeping it on his person because he said I can't be trusted with it." Arthur frowned. Alfred hadn't told John about the change in plan, and John definitely didn't know about a letter. How was he supposed to present this evidence? The brit found himself sweating, that idiot could have at least waited for tomorrow to add that random part in.

'You still need witnesses" Matthew said, but soon after he shrugged. "I can say I was there when you mated. Francis will too, and John the harold." He smiled, all the tension leaving his features. Arthur hummed softly to himself, clutching his stomach. He was awfully bloated, he wondered if he still had some semen inside of his body. He blushed at the thought. He never really took a moment to appreciate his heat. As if on cue... "Speaking of you mating," Matthew changed the subject. Alfred instantly groaned.

"Can you not, Matt? Please?"

"How was my brother in bed?" The brit glanced at his mate and laughed at the cute blush that spread across his face. "I heard he was a kitty killer in bed, but since you're a man, the hole was different." Arthur laughed at his mate's embarrassment. Matthew blew him a kiss before switching to french. " _How good was he?_ " Arthur made brief eye contact with Chancy before answering.

"He was really good actually... " He said in english, smiling at the irritated look on the other's face. "B _ut by the third day he was a little rough and I swore my body was breaking_." He confessed in French, looking at his hands. He felt as if he was betraying his mate, even though it was a little gossip. Chancy nodded.

" _Is it an American thing to tug on hair?_ " He asked, running his hands through his hair. " _Davie pulled on my hair a lot, and it really hurt_." he frowned at the memory. Both Arthur and Matthew hummed before shaking their heads.

" _Francis pulled my hair_." Matthew said.

" _Alfred didn't pull mine._ " Arthur responded. Chancy shrugged, still playing with his hair. " _He did squeeze a lot though_." he added. Chancy looked up for a second before nodding.

" _Like your butt, thighs and neck? Yeah, Davie did that a lot too_." Matthew and Arthur stared at each other for a moment. Neck?

" _Uhh, butt and thigh yeah_." Arthur started.

" _Neck? No_ " Matthew finished. Chancy bit his lip, a little confused.

 _"Oh... so why... is it a kink?_ " He let down his pony tail, shaking his head so his hair would fall at his shoulders. " _He really liked it when I scraped my nails down his back._ " He wiggled his fingers for emphasis, the male having sizeable nails. " _He would also bite me often, and not just on my neck, once he bit my chest so hard I screamed and I hit him._ " The conversation was turning into one he didn't really want to pursue, but Matthew was adamant knowing.

" _What did he do when you hit him?_ " Matthew asked, and Chancy thought for a moment before blushing, shaking his head, refusing to answer. " _Pleaseee.. come on, we'll tell you everything you want to know about our sex lives._ " Arthur hummed at that, not really sure if he was speaking for the both of them. Finally, after a little more pressing, Chancy spilled.

" _He..._ " he voice cracked as his face got red, resorting to looking out the window. " _He just... thrusted faster... and harder. I was angry, so I kept hitting him, but he just kept going. Eventually it stopped feeling good and it just hurt... so I started to cry. When he noticed he stopped and asked me what was wrong... I slapped him a few times before I told him, and he apologized. Then we continued where we left off."_ He explained. Arthur racked his mind for any similar experiences, and one came to mind.

" _Yeah, Alfred did something like that once. I was..._ " he paused, a blush spreading across his own face. " _pleasuring him with my mouth when he just started thrusting out of nowhere_." Matthew laughed, but Arthur continued. " _I was trying to pull away, but he was literally holding my head to his... yeah, and I swore I thought i was going to die or worse, vomit on it. I swear, I was furious when he was finished, I buried myself in the sheets for an hour, I wouldn't even let him touch._ " Chancy bit his lip, looking down at his hands. " _What is it?_ " The frenchman looked up, shaking his head before sighing heavily.

" _I did the same thing to Davie, but then he used it a justification for... uhh_ " he looked away, out of the window.

" _Don't leave us hanging_!" Matthew hooted.

" _He tied a ribbon around me and wouldn't let me finish until he told me too.._." Arthur gasped. What? That's a little extreme isn't it? _"No, no, no_!" The frenchman said quickly shaking his head. " _It was fine... I said it was okay and he would stop in the middle of it to ask me if I really wanted to stop and all that. He... well, we... were kinda in character._ " he explained, and Arthur tilted his head.

" _Like roleplay?_ " Matthew asked. Chancy nodded. " _Oh, well okay then. For a second I thought Davie was a sadist_." Chancy shrugged.

" _He sorta is, but he doesn't really want to hurt me. He likes it really rough_." He rubbed his eyes, yawning dramatically. _"I should get some rest, it's getting late._ ' he said suddenly, putting his hair once again in a pony tail.

" _Wait_ ," Matthew started, but he hesitated, which was weird for Matthew. After a long pause, he continued. " _Don't get mad or anything, but I still can't get it out of my mind. Remember that time when we were shopping in New York, and you got angry and stormed off after we asked you about an argument you had with Davie. What was that argument?_ " Arthur nodded. He wanted to know too, it was odd for anything to get under Chancy's skin. Whatever it was must have really pissed him off. The ice blonde didn't look very amused at the question and scowled. However, a second later he sighed heavily.

" _We were talking about what we were going to do once we reached the capitol. He was telling me all about his parents and what they did, and how much they would like me and Geoffrey. I liked talking about the future with him, and I still do, but then he starts bringing up the fact that he wants a big family, and I'm open to producing children, but I don't want a coven of little Lafayette- O'Donoghues running around though. We had a little back and forth about it, and then he said something along the lines that I won't be doing anything else worthwhile so why don't I just do my duty and raise our kids_." He rubbed his temples.

" _That's it?_ " Matthew asked, but Arthur understood. As an omega he could see how that could be offensive, especially directed at one as established as Chancy.

 _"I just... I guess the way he phrased it triggered me, and in the military, as an omega I got that a lot. As a way to silence people who brought up my omega status, I hit them real hard, just once, across the face. When he said that my hand just moved by itself, it's like a reflex when someone disrespects me. I apologized of course, and I explained why it happened. He hasn't said anything like that since, he just finds new ways to upset me_." He sighed, twirling his hair. " _He's perfect, and I'm so happy I could die, but... I feel like my world is ending whenever he tells me 'no_ '." Arthur narrowed his eyes at the other. He can't even count how many times Alfred had told him no, and he can count on two hands how many times he had said yes.

" _Spoiled much?_ " Matthew chimed in, and Chancy pouted. " _I mean, Francis isn't strict at all, but I hear no's often. You can't have everything you want._ " Wise words. Chancy groaned.

 _"Davie said that the first time actually, but then I started to cry, so he slept with me that night._ " He smiled at the memory, and Arthur shook his head. That's extortion. " _However, I think Francis told him to stop because the last three times I cried for something, he scolded me and called me a brat. Then he started bringing up how I'm supposed to be the toughest person he knows, the most sound, etc. Then I cried harder, but he still wouldn't cuddle me, and his excuse was dumb. 'You have a broken rib' he said... So! It hardly even hurt and all I wanted to do was be as close to him as possible. Like, I wasn't asking for sex, so there really shouldn't have been a problem_."

"Wow," Arthur mumbled. " _Davie really has his hands full_." Chancy shrugged.

" _I do my part too. I can listen to him talk about flowers for hours at a time. He's cute when he talks about flowers because he gets excited. He reminds me a lot like Geoffrey when he gets excited_." He sighed sadly. The baby was with Davie on the steamship and they wouldn't see each other for at least a week. " _I hope he's feeding him well, and keeping him safe. I swear if I find a single scratch on him I'll-"_

" _He'll be fine, Davie won't let anything happen to him._ " Arthur assured and Chancy nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips.

* * *

 **4 days later...**

"Arthur I know what I'm talking about, we're not staying long..." He mumbled into his mate's ear. The brit tensed up, opening his mouth to say something, but the prince hushed him. "Don't say a word, it's not safe for you here." he warned. He allowed the cheering crowds to yell his name and happily chant their loyalty to the crown. Alfred wore a bright smile and his crown sparkled in the afternoon as he waved to the people in the small secluded town. He was internally screaming however, the smaller the town the more... problematic. Arthur sat uncomfortable, biting his lip; he was scared now, he had scared him. "We'll just stop for a few hours to get some supplies. Just stay by me, and you should be alright." The small blonde nodded.

"Ok." He whispered, clutching Alfred's sleeve. The American felt bad, but he knew something of this sort would happen eventually. New York was okay with the british now, they're more likely to attack an Irish man than a brit. However out here, closer to the south, it was a lot more dangerous for a lot more different kinds of people. If Arthur says a word, he might be harrassed, and yeah Alfred knew he could handle 3 or 4 people at a time, but he couldn't handle a mob. The carriage stopped on the side of a dirt road, crowds of people gathering around, wanting to see the prince and meet his mate. Alfred glanced over at Arthur, happy to see that he didn't look too scared, only a little nervous and that would be normal when facing crowds of people. The crowd would interpret it as being bashful.

"Let's go." He said once the door swung open, a pathway being cleared as women's cries filled the air. Alfred steped out first, allowing the people to yell and throw flowers at him. After a moment he held out his arm, signalling for the brit to step out. The smaller blonde wore a beautiful lavender dress he had picked out in New York. The dress had a Bertha neckline, meaning both shoulders and neck were revealed, stopping about an inch and a half below his collar bone. He, at the insistance of John and Matthew, wore a boning corset, an undergarmet that sinched his waist in a little. It would have made his waist look smaller, but Alfred, once John and his brother had gone, unlaced his corset until half of it was undone. Arthur's sleeves were a dark purple, and the engageantes he wore underneath them were made of lavender lace. The sleeves were like miniature drapes on his upperarms. His silhouette was a light purple with a dark purple drapes, forcing Alfred to walk about 2 feet away from the brit. Underneath his skirt was a crinoline that gave him a wasp behind. Alfred was completely against it, but John insisted that he wear it, that towns like this want to see a feminine omega, Otherwise, they would raise questions.

They linked elbows and walked through the parted crowd, entering the only government building in the county. It was a court house, and the officials inside stood up as the prince and company walked inside, th mayor rushing to great the prince. Before the middle aged man could reach though, Chancy dressed in his 2nd command getup stepped in front of the prince, hand on the hilt of his sword, pulling it out slightly. "It's fine," Alfred stated, but the blonde didn't move. That's when he remembered the guy couldn't speak English. Arthur stepped in, speaking in french. Chancy withdrew instantly, bowing in apology to the mayor.

"Oh no, no!" The mayor cried, hand stuck out for a handshake. Chancy stared at it for a moment before stepping back in line, away from the man. The mayor retracted his hand, released a nervous chuckled before approaching Alfred. He bowed respectfully before speaking. "It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness. My name is Marcus Thompson and I'm the mayor of this town." Alfred smiled warmly, though he got an unpleasant feeling from the other. He had dark hair and brown eyes, and he was a little shorter than Alfred, maybe 5"11'. He wore a suit, and his black hair was greased back. He had a faint mustache, which put the prince off, but his presence was faint, not a real threat.

"Likewise."


	27. Chapter 27

**2 hours later...**

"So you are a French?" The mayor asked loudly at the table. They were having lunch at the town hall, everyone grateful for the food. The brit was tired of eating dried fruits and jerky, glad to be having his turkey sandwiches. He thought at first the entire stay would be uncomfortable because he wouldn't be allowed to speak, but thank goodness Chancy and Matthew were around because he could just talk to them in French and the other wouldn't be able to spot his accent. However, perhaps the mayor noted he was just speaking silently to his companions, and so he decided to interrupt the brit's to start their own. Arthur stared at him for a bit, not really wanting to answer him. "Aww come on!" He was making scene, the brit realized, and he looked at Alfred for support.

"Excuse my mate, he doesn't like talking to strangers." the prince said cooly, draping his arm around Arthur's shoulder. The mayor pouted before continuing his original conversation with the prince. Arthur only heard parts of the exchange, but mayor thompson seemed to be asking for funding.

"All the money nowadays is being directed to the cities. Us little guys aren't getting a fair share!" Arthur bit his lip. The town did seem a bit rundown, he had to admit, and he swore he saw roads being paved on every corner in New York. "And that's insane considering these cities are hosting al of these niggers. A nice little town like ours doesn't even have a single coon." Arthur almost spit his drink, eyes wildly searching Alfred's face. The prince seemed put off, his smile faltered into a frown before recovering. The mayor noticed the change in atmosphere around the prince so he added quickly. "Of course there is nothing wrong with the good negro, but New York is crawling with bad ones." Arthur couldn't hold back his scoff, running a hand in his tied back hair.

Mayor Thompson noticed, and turned to the brit, a wide overly friendly smile. "Mr. Pendragon, with all due respect, you declined to talk with me on the grounds that I was a stranger. Now, I don't know how it is in France, but it's rude for..." he paused, gesturing towards Arthur and Chancy, who was sitting next to him, not paying attention to the conversation. "You get me? It's rude to eavesdrop, especially if your kind is listening in on important alpha business." he said rather condescendingly. Arthur hummed, quirking a brow. He glanced over at his mate with questioning eyes. Is he going to let him talk however he wants? Alfred cleared his throat, getting the mayor's attention.

"I don't know how it works in this little town," he said loudly so almost all of the people in the room could hear. The mayor tugged at his collar, loosening his bottons. "But I thought racial slurs were a thing of a past. The cities having more black people wouldn't affect how the crown funds it's provinces, we simply give money to places that makes money. All this town has to offer is grain, but so does the 5 counties we've passed before this one. However, none of the people in those towns even brought up race when they asked for more funding. Neither did they directly insult my mate. They provided statistics about how much they can produce if more money were funded, and they had layouts ready for potential public works." He chastised, and the brit smiled. That's my boy.

"Well," The mayor said, head held high. Arthur smirked at his foolish pride. "Perhaps we can prepare that for you before you leave, but for now let's focus on our delicious lunch the sweet women from the women's center made us." He suggested, motioning at the table of food and delicacies. Alfred looked unimpressed.

"Not before you apologize to my mate and the 2nd commanding officer of the French Imperial Army." He said, crossing his arms. The mayor hesitated under the stares from the crowd in the room, breaking into a sweat. The officials in uniform looked at him with confident eyes; there was no way he was going to apologize to an omega who didn't know his place, or so they thought. The mayor must have been used to walking over others, so often that he couldn't stop himself from doing it in front of royalty. The mayor broke into a smile.

"I did not mean to offend them, I'm sure they understand." He offered. The prince shook his head.

"That's not an apology." He said bluntly, picking up his wine glass and taking a sip. "Apologize correctly or else." He said suddenly, causing the eyes to snap to the prince instead of the mayor. He had a certain threatening gaze locked onto the mayor, releasing a long almost hypnotic hum as he waited. "I don't have forever." He reminded. The mayor nodded quickly, turning to both Chancy and Arthur.

"I sincerely apologize from the bottom of my heart." he stuttered. Arthur nodded, and Chancy followed suit, though he had no idea why or what the conflict even was. The prince sighed, relieved, raising his cup in the air.

"Thank god, I thought I was going to have to hurt you." He chuckled darkly, and the mayor visibly gulped. "My patience never lasts that long, you must be a lucky cat." He continued to prod loudly, the mayor's cheeks heating up. "Hey guys, I want to make a toast!" He declared, and everyone was obliged to come near. Everyone raised their glasses, including the mayor, though reluctantly. "Cheers to the grace of god, how far our counrty has come, and obedience." Everyone cheered, and it appeared the mayor's pride had taken enough blows. He stood up suddenly, his silverware clinging against his plate.

"If you'd excuse me, I must use the restroom." He shuffled off quickly, and the brit couldn't keep back his giggle. He could feel the prince gazing at him, so he turned to see worried eyes. The brit shot him a questioning look. He wasn't feeling guilty was he?

"Are you okay?" The prince asked. Arthur nodded before shooting a look that seemed to ask the same question. "I'm fine sweetie." He said, taking another sip of his wine before twisting his face. "This wine is awful though, very bitter." he said, setting down the glass. Arthur actually liked the wine here, better than the really sweet ones Francis keeps on whipping out. "But it tastes like something you would enjoy." He added, tracing his thumb over the brit's gloved hand. "You really like bitter things." Arthur smiled, humming in confirmation. The prince chuckled. "If you want I can request a cart of this wine to be placed in our cart so you can enjoy anytime." Arthur shook his head. He didn't like it that much. "Okay."

* * *

 **2 hours later...**

The brit and prince settled down in their carriage, awaiting for the driver to start the horses. Matthew had returned to his carriage already, and Chancy and his men were on their horses, ready to ride to the next town. That town should be the last stop before the capitol. Arthur felt butterflies just thinking about the palace, but he forced himself to calm down; he had promised Alfred that he was going to push aside any prior animosity he had towards his mother and have an open mind towards the woman. Hopefully she would do the same. Arthur felt his dress get caught up in something, looking over to see a wooden crate of wine. Of course the prince would request it; the brit still couldn't help the smile though.

Alfred grabbed the other's hand, pulling lightly on the gloves. The brit looked up at him, confused, the prince explained himself. "We won't pass another town for a day or two, you don't need to wear this anymore." He said, tugging down the brits engageantes. Arthur pulled the pins out of his hair, turning around so his mate could have access to his back.

"Unlace me."

The prince slowly undid the dress, being careful not to accidently tear another of the brit's dresses. After he loosened the dress, he began to loosen the corset the brit forgot he had one. However, once the last loop was released, the brit let out a big breath of air he didn't even realize he was holding in. "I hate those things." Alfred muttered to himself as he lifted the brit's skirt. Arthur was going to protest until he felt the cage... crinoline? That's what Alfred had called it. Well yeah, the crinoline loosened and eventually fell to his feet. Before the brit could even move the dress was being pulled over his head, just as the carriage began to move, causing the brit to lose his footing and falling on top of his lover.

"Sorry." He said once the dress was off. He was almost naked, save for his underwear. "I think John left me a change of clothes in that corner over there." He pointed, politely commanding the prince to get it. Alfred leaned over, groaned dramatically, and sat up, handing over a simple white blouse and and black trousers. He put them on quickly before neatly setting his gear aside, resting his head on the prince's lap. "Thank you for defending me." Alfred hummed, raking his hands through his hair.

"I mean... it's my job to protect you and put that bastard in his place, so..." He said softly, looking out of the window. "My country is so pretty." He muttered.

"You always switch, depending on your company" Arthur said suddenly, unthinkingly. "Your possesive pronouns. When with your friends you say our country. When your with me, you say my country." He turned so he could face Alfred's stomach, snuggling in.

"Oh..." The prince sounded uncomfortable. "Does that offend you, I can stop referring to it as mine if you want." Arthur shook his head.

"No, no need. It is your country. You were born and raised here, you have the right to say it's yours, I see no offense in that. I just find it interesting is all." He closed his eyes, really tired. "I think I might be falling asleep soon." Alfred hummed before flicking his cheek. "Ow" the brit groaned, but he didn't move, he was too lazy.

"If you sleep now, it'll ruin your sleep pattern. We just have 8 more hours until bed time." Alfred said, taking out some paper work. Arthur groaned.

"Easy for you to say, you actually have something to do. I left all of my books on the ship." He whined, and Alfred huffed.

"You should have brought them with you." He countered.

"I know."

"You can help me if you want." He offered, and the brit shook his head.

"I'm an Idiot, there's no way I can help you." he laughed, but the other growled lightly.

"Don't say that, you are a genius." He said, forcing the other off of his legs. "Here." He said, handing the brit half of the paper in his hand. The brit held the 10 or so documents in his hands in shock. He can't be serious, right? "You do that and I do this." he ordered, handing the brit a quill. "Feel free to take small notes on the page."

* * *

 **4 hours later...**

"I'd give it to them, the island is so small and the U.S is getting nothing from keeping it really." The brit reasoned, but Alfred shook his head.

"No, that Island is giving us a presence in the east. In times of war, that port would be invaluable, that's why Russia wants it. They don't want any U.S territory in their waters, at all. We're keeping that Island." The prince said bluntly, and the englishman nodded, albeit feeling dejected. With every document the prince shot down his responses to it, giving a little anecdote about why he was wrong. The brit let out an annoyed growled, causing the other to growl back softly in response. "What's wrong?" he asked, and the brit sunk in his seat.

"I told you I was an idiot. I haven't gotten a single thing right." He set the papers aside and crawled over to his mate who put down his papers in favor of holding him instead. Alfred nustled his hair, kissing his ear.

"You're not an idiot. It's my fault for not actually telling you about the U.S's stance on foreign affairs, which will take more than a few lessons." He rubbed the other's thigh. "Politics is very complicated, but you have good instinct considering where you are from. Ideal if you were a british diplomat." He said tried to praise, but the brit was confused. Was he trying to say that he was doing okay for a british person? As if the prince read his mind, he clarified. "You're responses to the requests in the documents would be ideal for Britain at the very moment. Let's say Britain still had some islands, and France wants them, because of the war, you're in need of money so you would just sell it to them, especially if the island isn't brining in much revenue. The british as of now don't need to focus on expanding their presence, Britain needs to focus on stabilizing it's economy. Sacrificing land and doing diplomatics favors will help England.'

"Oh..." Arthur guessed it was a compliment. "Thanks."

'So..." The prince started, rubbing his hands up the other's sides. "Are you excited? We're almost home." He said, with a dreamy voice. The Englishman smirked.

"You've been living in the fortress for years right? Are you nervous to see your old home again?" Arthur asked, ignoring the other's question on purpose, he wasn't in the mood to argue or fight over it...yet. Alfred didn't seem to notice, he had on a small smile as he shook his head.

"I'm not nervous, at least not yet. Maybe once all the coronation stuff starts." He said softly. "I do hope it happens smoothly... it probably will, we have a few weeks before then." Arthur nodded. "I honestly do think you'll like it there." He added, and the brit quirked his brow. "The palace is way bigger than the fortress, and we have ponds and fancy statues and big gardens with pretty flowers. We have a really spacious prayer room, and a bar. Plus the food there is amazing and it'll surely fatten you up."Arthur scrunched up his nose, but the American paid no mind. "Then eventually we will get married in the main hall, have some children, and live happily ever after." He concluded, and the brit smiled at how cheezy he was. He went along with it.

"How many kids do you want?" He asked, tracing a finger across the other's jaw line. Alfred hummed, leaning into the other's touch.

"Maybe 4 kids. 3 boys and 1 girl would be nice." He answered truthfully, and the brit bit his lip. He wants four kids... Arthur never gave birth, but he was sure giving birth to four kids would be... unpleasant. He sighed.

"How about three?" He offered, and the prince shrugged. "2 boys and 1 girl?"

"I just... always imagined four kids running around, you know." He said lightly. "I can still see them now. A little boy, no more than 5 years old, is sitting on the ground of my study while reading a book you gave him. He has my hair color, probably my eyes, but definitely your nose and eyebrows. He's pale, but not too pale, like a mix of our complexions. His younger brother, around 4 years old looks a lot like him, but the only thing that's different is his hair texture. It's wild and it has leaves in it. You're sitting down the couch breastfeeding our youngest, hopefully a girl. She's still a baby but she has tufts of brown hair that will probably lighten. Then our son, who is about 2 years old, is sitting on my table, coloring something. It can just see it now..." He sighed, looking out of the window. "It's gonna be great."

Arthur couldn't stop his blush. He's really serious about me huh? Arthur couldn't help his happy chuckle as he kissed the other's cheek. It was a sweet image, and hopefully an accurate one. "I love you." he muttered, and the American muttered it back.

"You never answered my question." The American said suddenly and the brit rolled his eyes.

"Don't ruin the moment, git." He sigh deeply, resting a cheek on the side of his face.

"The next town we stop at will be the last." The brit groaned. The moment was ruined. He peeled himself away and sat next to him.

"I know."

"There is really no turning back, you know that?" He said in a serious tone. Arthur turned to look at him but there was no use, he was still facing the window so he couldn't look into his eyes. Of course Arthur knew that. What? Did he think he'd run away? Arthur hummed before answering.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

 **2 days later...**

"I really hate those things." Alfred looked furious as he helped his mate out of the carriage. Matthew hushed him while John told him to fix his face. Arthur smiled and chuckled lightly. He had to be careful not to laugh too hard or else he would over exert himself and get faint. The brit's corset was considerable loose today, only going up 3 laces. His outfit was a deep royal blue, very similar to Alfred's outfit. The englishman, though indeed a little annoyed at the corset, he was grateful he didn't need to wear a dress, he was wearing royal blue pants instead.

"Stop mumbling." John muttered towards Alfred, who in turn pouting adorably.

"Why are we putting him that... thing? It's a deathtrap. Do you know how many women have to live with disfigured bodies due to those things? I prefer Arthur the way he is." He said, but even he knew his little speech wouldn't change Arthur's attire. John and Matthew were so in with the times that they would never get caught outside their homes with the latest trends. Matthew always wore a bodice, and John always sported a monicle.

"We can't all have bodies like Arthur..." He stated flatly, looking at the brit with a smile. Something must have caught his eyes because soon he was looking past the brit, his eyes settle on something moving fairly rapid, seeing how his eyes would dart to and fro. "or Chancy." The brit turned to see what the other was looking at, sighing heavily as he rolled his eyes. Chancy had his back to them as he scolded some soldiers. The men were much taller than Chancy, and occassionally his had to stand on his tippy toes or jump. So whenever he landed on rested on his heels his butt would shake just a little. Some other soldiers seemed to notice, the ones who passed the small frenchman would turn their heads to look at his figure discreetly.

"His body isn't all that." Alfred deadpanned. Arthur looked to his mate, who was still seemingly transfixed on Chancy's bossom. Arthur bit his lip.

"Then why are you still staring at it then? You're studying it as if you're going to write a thesis on it." He questioned playfully, as a kind warning. However, the prince's gaze wouldn't let up, he continued to stare at it.

"Okay, maybe I lied a little, his body is great. However, it's extremely unrealistic for most people." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Stop looking at him." He ordered sternly and the prince's face snapped to the front, making a popping sound with his lips. "I don't see why it would be wrong for people to aim for those looks. He has desirable features, but really, it wouldn't be too hard to attain. A little bit of make up here and there."He said his two cents with a wave of his hand.

"A little bit of make up won't make most people look like Chancy. It's easy for you to say because you're just about if not more attractive than Chancy." John said as he walked, Matthew nodding in aggreance.

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly. I started to wear my bodice more often because whenever Chancy and Arthur stand next to me, I either look like a twig, or a whale." he explained, and Arthur was genuinely taken aback. Matthew looked great in his opinion, why would he think otherwise? Because no one is gawking at him?

"Being stared at as if you're a piece of meat isn't as cool as it was hyped up to be." Alfred said suddenly, and Matthew bit his lip.

"It's not the same for Alphas." He said quickly. "You guys are sought after because of how powerful you are. They want you to pursue them, so they stare awkwardly. For everyone else, they can stare all they want because at the end of the day if that alpha doesn't look back, they're not gonna mate."

"They'll end up becoming a prostitute." John added. Arthur quirked a brow.

"I thought most prostitutes were omegas who couldn't have kids. Is it different in the U.S.?" Arthur asked, and Alfred nodded quickly, though he didn't elaborate. "How is it different?" Arthur coasted the conversation along. Alfred looked at him briefly before shrugging.

"Okay, well here in the states, the reasons vary, but it's illegal to harm or displace your mate based on fertility issues. The U.S used to have a problem of Alphas accidently killing their omegas by breaking bones and beating them due to infertility. So we passed a law that prohibited the murder of omegas along with more omega rights and stuff. However, the alphas just began to knock the omegas unconcious and abandon them somewhere far away. So, we made it illegal to do that, and all mateships had to be registered through the government. If a mateship isn't going well, they'll have to anull it through us. Our prostitutes are mostly betas because they're the most abundant class in the U.S. For some reason, omegas are usually born in richer families in the U.S, so they don't go into prostitution. Financially unfortunate betas tend to become prostitues for economic reasons."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Well, you learn something new everyday. England should pass things like that, so omegas actually have a fighting chance." He muttered as he slowed down turning around. " _Chancy, are you too busy to walk with us?_ " he called out in french. The blonde second in command was currently riding on top of a horse, eyebrow quirked at his question. The blonde looked around him for a moment, checking to see if everything was in order. He eventually nodded, riding up slowly beside him.

" _Is everything okay?_ " He asked. The brit shot him a confused look before nodding. Why wouldn't it be? " _Sorry, it's just that it's morning and we usually don't talk in the morning when I'm on duty_."

" _I'm sorry, is it a bad time?_ " Arthur didn't want to distract him. The French man shook his head. " _Okay... Well I'm awfully bored, tell me a joke._ " Arthur requested, and the Frenchman scoffed.

" _My life_ "

" _That's not funny, Chancy_." Arthur rolled his eyes. He was always making self depricating jokes 24/7 it was almost concerning. " _When you get older you'll regret not having fun in your 20's_."

" _Oh, and you're living it up now?_ " The frenchman shot back with a snicker. Arthur again rolled his eyes.

" _I am indeed enjoying myself._ "

 _"At least that makes one of us. I just can't wait for the capital, Davie and Geoffrey are probably waiting for me_." He sighed, irritated. Arthur looked up at him with worried eyes. " _I wish these horses and carriages moved faster. I still don't know why we all just couldn't take the boat_."

" _Alfred wanted to explore the countryside before he'd be trapped in the palace grounds_." Arthur answered, and the horserider frowned.

 _"How convenient for him_." He had a hint of disdain in his voice.

" _Relax, when we get to the castle, You and Davie could make up for lost time all day._ " Arthur assured, but the other scoffed.

" _Oh please, I'll be lucky to have more than 7 hours of sleep, yet alone free time."_ He sighed, annoyed. " _I swear, if he just went with me for a few weeks back to France I would have no responsibilities._ " Arthur quirked an eyebrow. He was still angry about that, it was almost a month ago.

" _No responsibility except childrearing._ " Arthur corrected, and Chancy laughed loudly. Alfred glanced back for a brief moment before turning back. " _What's so funny_?"

 _"I'm just... I'm not having more than 2 children._ " Chancy deadpanned with a shrug. " _I don't want to. In my family, once you give birth to 2nd child, all the births after will hurt 10 times as much. No amount of medicine will soothe it. My mother descriped having me as one of the most excruciating feeling in her life, and she was burned at the stake once, so..._ " He explained, and Arthur bit his lips. Hmm

 _"Um, is it a curse or something?_ " He asked, and Chancy shook his head.

" _It has something to do with life essence._ " He shrugged. " _I never paid attention to my mother when she went on her motherhood rants, so I wouldn't know_."

" _Why was she burned at the stake?_ " Arthur asked, looking up again at the Frenchman. Chancy's face contorted into that of uncertainty. " _You don't have to tell me._ " Arthur said, and the blond shook his head.

" _The Americans accused her of witchcraft, and they tied her up along with her sisters and lit them on fire._ " He explained. " _It's a long and arduous story, I'll tell you later. She survived, of course, but her sisters didn't, and the Americans who burned them at the stake were rewarded with riches before they left the country._ "Arthur nodded in complete understanding.

" _Don't you just love Americans?_ " He asked with a roll of his eyes, but then he closed them. " _That's hilarious coming from me though. The UK doesn't really have the best rap sheet when it comes to accused witches either_."

" _Yes, but that was in the past, right? The french people were really the ones behind, they just convinced some drunk Americans to do it for them_." Chancy explained. _"When my mother was scorched I was already born. We lived in this house, my mother and my siblings, her siblings and their children, about 4 miles from the town, and every week or so young girls would come to our house to... scrap away their mistakes. They would pay my mother and aunts to fix their foolish mistakes, but the town nonetheless despised us for it. I remember the night it happened, vividly, but I'm sure you don't want to know just yet_."

" _Okay, maybe later tonight?_ " Arthur asked as Chancy began to lead his horse away.

" _Of course._ "

* * *

After about 10 more minutes of walking they finally made it to the town. They couldn't ride all the way there because it was off of the main road and it would be dangerous to try and drive a carriage through the brambles. Arthur didn't mind, he enjoyed the fresh air extremely. He and Alfred linked arms and walked regally towards the crowd of people cheering. Alfred had instructed him that it would be okay to speak with his accent here, but the brit was still a little shooken by the last town that he didn't want to even try it here.

"Relax, john said this town was against the war entirely and it houses a number of british families." Alfred muttered into his ears. Arthur shook his head. "Well, at least stop squeezing my arm, I swear you might pop my muscle." He complained, and the brit tightened his grip.

"I do what I want." He replied. The two walked through the mass of people and now the words could be heard clearly.

"We love you!" a woman yelled.

"He's beautiful" said another. Arthur wasn't sure whether the last comment was about him or Alfred, but he slowly felt himself relax. This place isn't like the other town, it's more liberal. "Is he british? He's so cute!" a man squealed, and Arthur couldn't help his blush. he found himself hoping every encounter from this point on was this welcoming, but he knew that was too much to ask. Arthur looked up at his mate, and he could see the prince scanning the crowd for danger. The brit sighed, Alfred's always on alert.

Eventually the pair and their company made it inside the town's courthouse, one of the only official buildings in the area. The mayor of the town was a kind alpha African American woman named Clara Deen. She had a pretty smile with long dark kinky hair, and the brit had a gut feeling she wasn't a day over 20. How she got this job, she had no idea, but she was obviously well equipped. The town looked operational; infrastructure was good, nice buildings, many stores, beautiful gardens. She was doing a great job. She offered her hand out after she had bowed, Alfred taking it and shaking it firmly. "Long time, Clara." Alfred said, and the brit looked up at him. They knew each other? The mayor smirk and shrugged coyly, before laughing fondly.

"About 3 and a half years, yes?" She said, the two still shaking hands. Arthur stared at them awkwardly, before lokking around the room to spot anything interesting. His eyes were instantly attracted to a colorful fabric on the wall. It had a angular patterns layered across and over each other, looking like a crystal. It had vibrant reds, oranges and yellows. It was certainly not the work of a european man, thats for sure. There was something... it was too simplistic. Arthur didn't mean that in a bad way, it was just not as unnecessarily ornamented as more european fabric. Its simplicity made it beautiful.

"That's an Akwete cloth, produced by the Igbo people. My mother made it for me about a week ago when she left for Nigeria again, so I made it my precious thing." She explained to Arthur, and the brit nodded.

"It's very beautiful. The colors are gorgeous." He praised. The brit looked at the fabric one last time befre turning to the mayor. "Where are my manners?" He offered out his hand. "My name is Arthur Pendragon, nice to meet you." Mayor Deen took it and shook his hand firmly, shooting him a kind smile. It was then did Arthur notice her height, towering over his 5 foot six inches with a staggering 6 feet 2 inches.

"I've known your mate since birth in the capitol." She whispered. "I have so much to tell you about that idiot." Arthur smiled and pursed his lips, trying to hide his excitement. He nodded eagerly, and she linked their arms, walking with him. "Marcus! Accompany the crown prince." She ordered, and another African american in an expensive suit made his way to the prince with a big smile, but not before eyeing with wary eyes. Alfred smiled back at Marcus as if they were old friends, instead of shaking hands, grabbing forearms. They knew each other too?

"Did Marcus also grow up with Alfred?" The brit asked, and the dark skin woman nodded.

"Marcus is my twin brother." She answered. "I am looking forward to getting to know you, Arthur... Pendragon? I assume that name isn't a coincidence." She asked, and the brit puckered his lips before sighing.

"I suppose not. However, you must admit that save for my last name, you would have never taken me for royalty." Arthur chuckled, and mayor Deen joining in. She nodded her head.

"No, I suppose not." The alpha said. "At first when I saw Alfred and you walking in together, I just assume you were some lost aristocrats passing by. I hardly recognized Alfred, he has changed so much." She elaborated.

"Why, does he look that much different?" Arthur was beginning to imagine his strong powerful mate as a wimpy teen boy with a squeaky voice and cute face. His attention was drawn back in when Mayor Deen shook her head.

"No, not really." She said. "Yes he has gotten taller, but that's not saying much since he was 16 the last time I had seen him. It was his expression really." Arthur bit his lip. Did he look too happy? "He used to always have a beaming smile that could blind anyone, and he would laugh at anything. Now his eyes are calculating, and his expression is blank. Why is that?" Arthur pursed his lips.

"I don't know. I had only met him personally in November. I had no idea how happy he used to be. All I can attest to is how his mood has improved throughout the course of our relationship." He did his best to deflect the question, and the alpha seemed to have not noticed.

"Well, since this is your last stop to the capitol, you and your company should spend the night here. I will show you to your room." She said, stopping suddenly. "Actually, would you mind waiting here, I must use the restroom."

"Of course." He answered, and the tall woman scurried off. Arthur had to admit she was beautiful. Her high cheek bones, her plimp lips, beautiful dark eyes... he could go on and on. He sighed, thinking back to the way she and Alfred interacted. They interacted in a way almost awkward, but not quite because they knew each other so well; too well. Arthur was getting the ex-lover vibe from the two, and of course he wasn't jealous, he had no reason to be. Besides, Matthew and hinted earlier that Alfred had his fair share of partners in the past. Arthur knew he had nothing to worry about, the woman didn't seem like the time to try and win Alfred back; she looked classy, prideful and independent. Furthermore she was a busy woman who probably didn't think twice when she had shaken hands with the prince. It was fine, it was all fine. Even if mayor Deen did want Alfred, Alfred would never go for it, he had jut mated with the brit. It's all good... but

His attention was drawn back to reality when he heard Mayor Clara Deen readjust her dress. Arthur noted how her hairstyle changed. "Shall we continue?" The brit nodded at the sight of her smile, there was no way she would do something like that. She lead the brit to a pair of huge black doors. She pulled out a key and unlocked them, pushing them open. Arthur looked around him, no one was in the corridor. "Right this way." She ordered, and the brit stepped inside. The room was illumintated by natural light flooding in through half a dozen large windows. The walls were lined with bookshelves that reached the ceiling. There was a desk, a chair, a few plants, nothing out of the ordinary. The Brit walked further into the room, hardly noticing when he began to walked on the shag carpet. From the way his heels sunk into the carpet he knew it was dense and soft.

"This doesn't look like a bedroom. Is this your office?" He asked. "The carpet is quite nice."

"Of sorts, yes, but I only use it on special occasions." She answered, circling the brit, walking around the carpet. Arthur noted how she avoided steeping on the carpet. Was it because of her shoes? Should he take them off? Though he was trying to force it back, the brit began to feel his panic rise a little. She was still a complete stranger.

"Do you mind me stepping on your carpet with my shoes on? I can take them off if you like." He began to walk towards the door until he felt a sudden burst of pain shoot up from his left leg. He yelled as he stumbled backwards, falling on his behind. He groaned as he felt the carpet move from under him, looking uo to see the mayor pulling it away from the center of the room. "W-what...?"

"I have a few questions, witch." Mayor Deen sneered and Arthur felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"What... H-How...?" He stuttered out, still clutching his left leg.

"You can't pass the circle, so you are either a witch or a demon." She explained. "However, I know you are a witch because of this." She rose her hand up, flashing the brit her ring. "It has tribal exorcist symbols on it. When we shook hands, you would have fainted on contact if you were a demon in disguise." Arthur swallowed he looked around the room. It was only know did he notice the stuffed birds, the candles, the animal skulls. He looked down in shock, around him a white circle with unintelligible runes on it.

"W-w-what...?" He panted. Arthur felt so stupid, what did he expect. "Why am I...?"

"What is your real name?" She asked, ignoring his questions. Arthur shook and began to plead. "Shut up, and tell me your name." Arthur whimpered.

"My name is Arthur Pendragon III."

"Why are you here?" She asked, and the brit looked up, shocked. He strugged to gather his thoughts, stuttering uncontrollably. "Why are you here? To infiltrate the U.S gov? To steal power for your pathetic island?" Arthur bit his lip. John had said they liked the british here, was he wrong?

"I-I love Alfred." He said firmly but his heart was pounding, he knew no way out of this. Was this kidnapping? He was never kidnapped before and he was scared. He laughed bitterly at the fact he had known her for less than 8 minutes and she already wants to kill him. "What do you want?" He whimpered, and the mayor scoffed.

"There's a reason why this route was chosen by the queen. I'm the royal sorcerer, all those who travel to the capitol must meet me first." She walked away towards a closet he hadn't noticed before, pulling out a large metal cross and a metal stick. She began to chant under her breath in a language the brit hardly understood, only being able to make a few words. " _Blessed god in mighty heaven._ " She chanted, " _Bless this cross and rid all who touches it of their evil intentions."_

"Mayor Clara Deen, please!" Arthur pleaded. "This is madness! Alfred and our soldiers are in the building, they'll find you doing this and you will be punished." He warned as he stood up slowly. He flinched as he heard the other laugh loudly.

"No one is going to find us, Pendragon." He said darkly as she threw the large metal cross into the fireplace, the fire suddenly coming alight. "For we are far, far away from them." She said as he spread her arms out wide, spinning in a circle. Arthur was about to comment when the room began to melt around them, bookcases transforming into jagged rocky walls of a cave, the fireplace turning into a firepit. The carpet was no longer a carpet, intead a fouls pale leather mat in the center of the cave. The fire was the only source of light in the cavern, and Arthur darted his eyes around rapidly, screaming in fear.

"Alfred!" Hescreamed, tears filling his eyes. Who was this woman?! Why was she doing this? "Alfred! Chancy! Help! Anyone! Please!" He yelled, crawling around in fear, only for him to run into the circle's barrier and getting electrified by it. He cried out again, his voice echoing throughout the cave. A deep laughter can be heard from the sorcerer who raised her metal stick and crossed the barrier, stepping into the circle. Arthur crawled away from the other, making sure not to cross the white line. "Please, stop! What do you want?! Whatever you want, I'll give it to you!" He begged, and the sorceror grabbed him by his ankles, yanking him closer. "Clara, please!"

The woman laughed again. "I am not Clara Deen." She raised her metal pipe high and swung down on his right wrist. Arthur screamed in agony as he thrashed about, but this... thing was much heavier than it seemed. It sat on his chest so he could hardly breath, and his wild kicks and jabs did no harm to it. The beast swung down once more on his right wrist, Arthur shrieking as he felt it snap. The beast laughed loudly, lifting it and swinging down the pipe on his other wrist. Arthur tried to hide his wrist behind himself, but the beast didn't relent, instead it began to assault his shoulder and face. He screamed in pain but he couldn't, but soon the blows to the head got harder and it became more difficult to breathe through the blood in his nose.

"Get o-off of m-me!" he struggled as best he could against her, but it was no use. Soon she abandoned the pipe and stood up, giving the brit a chance to roll over and crawl away. He was just about to cross over the line when his face was pushed into the dirt, a strong hand holding his face in the foul leather. "MMMAHHA MAHHHA!" He yelled as his dress shirt was torn off and his corset unlaced. "AHHH!" He could feel a great heat near his back, and the brit, through teary eyes whimpered a soft prayer. He was flipped on his back and he could see the beast for what it truly was. It was no longer a woman, at least not completely anymore. It was a hybrid between a woman and a snake and she held a metal cross so hot it was glowling in red fury.

She laughed. "This way you'll never forget who your master is." He hissed as she pressed the hot metal onto his abdomen. No words could describe the utter pain he was feeling, nor the pitch of his bloodcurdling screams. His tears ran hot as she pulled the instrument away, tossing the cross back into the firepit. "No longer shall you serve the devil, witch!" She spat in his face, slapping the blackened raw blistering skin of his new brandmark. Arthur curled up into a ball, preparing for another blow before she walked away, out of the circle. He stayed in the position, sobbing quietly in his shock and fear. He felt as if he had died twice, each inhale causing him great pain.

"Alfred..." he whimpered

"By the way," the beast spoke. "You are definitely near the capitol, just not the U.S.A's." She laughed as she picked up the red hot cross once more, walking threateningly towards the brit once more. Arthur tried to drag himself away but the familiar pain of the barrier shot through him, and as he tried to catch his breath, the beast seared the cross onto his inner thigh. As he screamed the beast wrapped it's hands around his neck and squeezed, silencing him. "Welcome home, Arthur."


	28. Chapter 28

**1 week and a half later...**

Alfred woke up to the sound of a knock on his door. He groaned as he pulled on a robe and opened the door to see Davie standing there awkwardly with white gloves on. "What did I tell you about coming here in the middle of the night?" He groaned, moving to slam the door. Davie pushed the door so it wouldn't close further, and to annoy the prince.

"First of all, it's well past noon." Davie stated, and the prince looked up at him blankly. "Secondly, the search party has returned. Chancy said he found something." Alfred gasped and nodded quickly, rushing to put on his trousers, blouse, jacket and crown. He splashed water on his face to freshen up a bit and rushed out of the room, following Davie. The maids in the hall of the Grand Palace watched as their beloved future king ran to the great hall. He eventually pushed open the double doors and slowed to a stop in front of Chancy, whom he appointed search party leader. The small omega was perhaps Arthur's best friend, there was no better candidate for the job, excluding himself of course.

Chancy bowed respectfully before speaking in broken english. "We were looking the courthouse of the city Arthur went missing in. When looking around we seen a room we never seen during our visits of before. We tried opening it up, but it was closed shut, no matter what we tried."

"You said you found something. What did you find?" Alfred barked, and Chancy breathed in slowly, picking up where he left off.

"We found a witness." He deadpanned stepping to the side to reveal a young beta male aound 11 years old. "He says he was dusting around the corner when he saw Arthur and the mayor enter the room. He looked them until Arthur began to look too around, so he ducked. By the time he looked up again, the kidnapper had already closed the door." The young boy had blonde hair, and his blue eyes seemed nervous. Alfred needed to change his demeanor if he wanted to get anywhere. He went down on one knee and smiled kindly to the boy, beckoning him forth with his fingers. The child nodded as he stepped forward. The prince placed his hands on his shoulders and chuckled.

"My name is Alfred, what's yours?" The boy bit his lip before speaking.

"My name is Edward." He answered softly. The prince noted his british accent, and he couldn't help the way his chest tightened.

"How old are you, Edward?" Alfred asked softly, and child puckered his lips, looking up as if he were thinking about it.

"I'd say around 11 years old, but I can't be too sure now." He said with a soft chuckle. Alfred felt his eyes burn; Arthur would say things like that to attempt to lighten the mood.

"Can you tell me what you saw the day my mate went missing?" Alfred needed to keep his composure, he could slowly feel it slipping.

"Yes, of course." he said excitedly. "I was dusting, and then I saw Mayor Deen and your mate Arthur Pendragon walking together. I can hear some of the conversation as they walked towards the black doors your friend was talking about. They said your name a few times, but they laughed a lot." He stopped when he noticed a tear slide down Alfred's face. Of course he felt it, but he wasn't going to do anything about it. "Are you okay, my liege?" He asked, and Alfred nodded.

"Yes, I uh... what happened next Edward?" The child eyed him warily before continuing.

"Then mayor Deen needed to use the bathroom, but when she came back, her clothes were all ruffled and her hair was different. Ms. Deen never wears her hair in a ponytail, whoever it was that came out of the ladies room put it up in a pointail. Then she stopped telling jokes, and ms. Deen never stops telling jokes." He explained, and Alfred nodded. "When they walked past me, ms Deen didn't look the same either. Her skin was very dry and her eyes were dark brown."

"Her eyes are dark brown, aren't they?" Alfred asked, looking back. The brit frowned, nodding.

"She had dark brown eyes, but they are always brown eyes. The person with your mate had eyes that changed color."

"What?"

"Yeah. When they walked by, her eyes went from brown to yellow to brown again. Then she unlocked the door and stepped inside." Alfred furrowed his eyebrows. "You've got to believe me, that person wasn't Ms. Deen." Alfred pursed his lip. Alfred always assumed that the person who took Arthur was one of his brothers, which was why he was leading a fleet to England. However, if Arthur was indeed taken by a woman, he could be anywhere, making it impossible to find him. He squeezed his eyes closed.

"Thank you, Edward." Alfred said, bowing to the boy. "I know Ms. Deen didn't do it, don't worry." He smiled one last time before he walked away. Davie and Chancy tailed him from a small distance, the prince headed towards his room.

"Alfred, you can't coop yourself up all day. You have duties." Davie said as he caught up. Alfred looked at him with cold eyes before shrugging.

"My only job is to find my mate, so I'm getting my things, grabbing a ship, and I'm searching England."

"Really?" Chancy interjected. Alfred looked at him. "I got a very bad feeling from that door, Alfred. It is definitely portal or something." Davie scoffed.

"No, babe, don't fill his head with that crap." Davie said flatly. "There is nothing supernatural going on. If there were, we would have noticed his absence straight away because witchcraft is only good at killing people. There is no doubt in my mind that Arthur is still alive. Be he in England or Canada, he's alive, and once he can, he'll give us a hint as to where we should go next."

Alfred nodded numbly before, groaning. "I really do hope he's safe."

* * *

 **Meanwhile... Arthur's POV**

He picked at his infected hand for a while, waiting for the beast to return with something to eat. The brit had refused to eat the last meal it had offered him because it was raw and bloody. It hadn't brought anything back for him since, and that was almost 4 days ago. The brit could see his bones again, an unfortunate reminder that his life had gotten back on track, that he was destined to suffer. The hunger was painful, forever gnawing at his organs, begging him to eat. Nevertheless he could handle it now better than he did a few days. He was so used to three meals a day with snacks whenever he wanted that once 2 days had passed without food or drink, he began to cry.

However, Arthur doesn't cry anymore, that's just wasting precious liquids, liquids that would be better spent in his body. He had confirmed days ago that he was in England, that he was thousands of miles away from his mate, a mate who is probably still looking on the countryside. A mate who had probably given up by now. A mate who will never find him. So it was Arthur's job to do that himself. He sat up on his knobby knees and paused in order for his legs to prepare for another attempt at breaking the barrier. He slowly stood up and ran, stopping only when a sharp pain coursed through his hand into the rest of his body. He landed on the floor with a harsh thump. He decided to lie there until the beast returned with at least water and some bandages.

The brit was sporting some pretty nasty sores and blisters on his body. Many of the scars had faded, however the brand marks remained, leaving him a total of 7 crosses permanently etched into his body. One on his abdomen, one on his left and right calf, two on his inner thighs, and one one each shoulder blade. Each brand came with their own particular beating, and whenever he looked at one, he could recall the day, the hour and the sequence of weapons it had used on him. The hot wax, boiling tar, the whip, the pipe, the hammer... stones that one time.

When is it coming back?

~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~

 **5 hours later...**

Where was it?

Arthur was laying down on his side as he heard the rain fall heavily. He stood up and slowly approached the barrier, sticking a single finger out. He reached forward only to receive a formidable shock. He cried out as he sat down. He groaned in annoyance and anguish. Where the hell was it!?

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

 **1 day later...**

The beast still hasn't returned, and Arthur was incredibly thirsty. He looked around the dark cave, which was useless because the fire had burned out hours ago. Where did it go? Did it leave the cave for good? Did it go back to America? Arthur could recall it saying it was the royal sorcerer... Did she leave him here to die? Arthur felt the panic rise briefly before he relaxed again. If he was going to die, he'd prefer if it were natural causes and not at the hands of that beast. There was no way out of this circle, he knew that. Unless someone came to get him... He shook his head wildly. No, no one will come.

* * *

 **Alfred's POV...**

He swallowed harshly as his mother continued to speak. Davie patted him on the back as he stood guard, a small action that did very little to help his mood. The middle aged woman with flowing brown hair and chubby... everything really, was standing across the room in a big black and red dress. Her crown was freshly polished and the red jewels flashed in the warm sunlight flooding in from the large stained glass windows. He looked at his mother with cold eyes, who in turn sent him even colder eyes with a cold smirk.

"You are a fool if you think you'll find him. He's probably dead by now. No one would kidnap the future king's mate and keep him alive unless they have a death wish of some kind." She paced around the room and sighed. "There is no point searching England, he won't be there."

"Mother, I appreciate your concern," He stood up as he cleared his throat. "But wherever he is, he's terrified and needs my help." He bowed to his mother swiftly before turning to leave. Davie held the door open for him as he stepped out, but he stopped halfway through the door and turned to look at his mother. "Besides, I can't just let whoever did this get away with it." He grinned maliciously. The Queen quirked a brow before offering the same expression back.

"Then make them suffer."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

"You and your mother are so much alike it freaks me out." Davie commented over their armor. The two were polishing their worn equipment in the courtyard, and the prince had found them a spot underneath a cherry tree. Alfred shot him a confused look, and Davie shrugged. "I'm serious, cold exterior, twisted need for satisfaction. You guys are sociopaths." He mumbled the last part, but Alfred still heard it, releasing a soft hum. "Oh, and don't even get me started on that. Everyone in your family hums in response to things, but Matthew does it occassionally. You and the queen use humming as a way to, I dunno, tell people you are upset." Alfred rolled his eyes.

"I thought that was obvious... Arthur would ask me why I hummed so much, but it's just a thing. I hum when I have nothing good to say, or when I want a conversation to stop. It's more convenient than saying "I don't want to hear your voice, shut the hell up." He explained with a sigh, and Davied nodded.

"I agree, but I think it translates more into "Don't make me hurt you" than anything else. I see it as a warning sign. You know, the smoke to a fire." He tossed the prince his helmet, and Alfred put it on. "It's been a while since we put on our helmets, huh?" Davie asked, and Alfred nodded.

"Definitely wish I could actually enjoy myself." He complained, and the 2nd in command shrugged.

"We are all worried, so don't worry, none of us are enjoying it yet." He comforted. "Well except Geoffrey and your mother, of course." The prince winced as he said it, but even he couldn't ignore the glee in her eyes as he relayed the tragedy that was Arthur's kidnapping to her. Despite trying to defend her, Arthur was right. He was always right. A large part of Alfred knew he was right all along, but the more sentimental part of him wanted his mate to be wrong. He sighed heavily, regretting every argument he had with Arthur relating to his mother. She does hate his guts.

"The ship leaves in two days. The servants are preparing rations for the trip." He said randomly, but Davie nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come. I can help." He offered. Alfred remembered the conversation they had 3 days ago, when he had told Davie he was going back to England without him. First and foremost, He was offended and angry. He yelled and screamed until Alfred told him that he was the only he trusted with Arthur when he wasn't around, so if the brit happened to wonder into the palace, Davie would protect him from his mother. Alfred would have gone earlier, hitched a ride with Arthur's fake father, who had arrived to the palace a day after Alfred had. He returned to England at the instruction of John, for his safety of course. Alfred couldn't go with him however because John said no, that it was a bad idea or something. He doesn't do anything if John dissapproves of it, which is why he just does things without asking him. But the older man found out and cornered him in his bedroom to tell him firmly that he couldn't go.

"I am sure. Besides, it's a chance for you and your mate to connect again and introduce him to your parents." He chuckled, wishing he would be there to see that whole debackle unfold. Davie shuddered visibly.

"Thank goodness my parents are on vacation to Ireland, if they were here, I would lose my hair." He chuckled.

'How's Chancy holding up?" Alfred asked, for the sake of the conversation.

"He's..." Davie started, but suddenly stopped, scratching the back of his head.

"What's wrong?" Alfred sat up, dusting blades of grass off of his shirt.

"Nothing, It's just... I think he's hiding something from me." He sighed and he visibly deflated. "Whenever I ask him questions, he avoids them and changes the subject. Once I had asked what happened that night a few weeks ago, the night he broke 4 ribs. He tried to change the subject to him wanting to cuddle, but he wouldn't give me an answer. I was meaning to ask Arthur what happened, but then he fell into heat, so... Do you know what happened?"

Alfred hummed as his eyes darted the scenery. The grass was green, the air was crisp, the sun was shining. He needed an excuse. "Ask Chancy again. Tell him that whatever happened that night could aid in the investigation, and that not telling you could be jeopardizing Arthur's safety." He suggested, and Dvaie swayed back and forth, toying with the idea.

"Nah, he would just say he had that night in mind the whole time, and that there was no correlation." He said, and Alfred shook his head.

"No, that's what you would say." Alfred corrected. "Stop projecting on to him, and try it out. He may very well answer you." Davie scrunched up his face.

"I know him, and you do too. He learned English so quickly. It took my parents a few months to be conversational once we moved here from Ireland. He did it in at least a week." He praised, a bright smile on his face. Alfred bit his lip, actually having pulled Chancy aside to question him on his new found intelect. Chancy had told him that he had found a spell to make him speak English temporarily, but it shouldn't last more than a month. He told him to not tell Davie, that he'll tell him himself before 30 days passed.

He was on day 11, time was not in his favor.

"Yeah, he's something alright. But don't get to caught up on that, just enjoy your time together as a family before, well... your family comes home. My mother may be a little hard to please but... Is Chancy a catholic? If he isn't you are screwed." He chuckled and Davie sighed heavily, distress clear. Alfred quirked a brow, eyeing his friend. "Relax, I'm sure whether he's catholic, methodist or whatever, it will be fine. Same God, same rules." The prince shrugged but Davie shook his head, offering a shaky smile.

"He's Pagan." He groaned, and Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Of course he is."

"I can just hear my mother now." Davie layed down on the grass, sighing deeply. "Féach cad atá déanta agat anois, Davie." He had begun to imitate his mother in a squaeky voice, perhaps reciting old lectures off of the top of his head. "Ní mór duit a bheith dÚsachtach a bheith mórálach as a leithéid de creature salach ar ár bhaile, isteach sa chaisleán." He breathed in deeply, taking on the sterner tone of his father. "Anois, ní féidir liom cúram cé chomh maith bhraith a asal, nó conas deas Dealraíonn sé, tá sé ag dul chun é a dhó i ifreann le gach ceann de chuid chlann."

"I can't understnad a word you said." Alfred muttered, and the other huffed.

"She's basically gonna call my mate a heathen!" He said in a very deep Irish accent. "Oh, David O'Donoghue, we didn't break our backs to come to this country just for you to damn yourself and our grandchildren to eternal punishment. Leave him now!" He imitated in a deep irish accent. "We weren't spit on for being catholic just so you can marry out of our faith!" Now his hands were flailing as he spoke, the prince realizing too late that he was getting into a fit.

"Relax dude, I can talk to them if you want, approve of Chancy publicly so they won't be too hard on him." Alfred Offered, but Davie shook his head.

"O please, we know that won't work. Your word is just as good as mine when it comes to my parents, they practically see you as their nephew." He groaned, his accent still deep and rich. "I just pray Chancy can handle them for the first few days, long enough for me to contact a priest who'd be willing to marry us and baptize Geoffrey." Alfred raised a brow at that.

"I assume your raising Geoffrey then, permanently."

Davie nodded. "I talked to Sasha, his birth mother. She's moving to France with her new boyfriend. They met on the ship. He knows about Geoffrey, and doesn't want to raise someone else's child. That was completely okay with Chancy and I, and Sasha." He explained, and Alfred nodded in understanding.

"Who is the father again? I keep forgetting to ask."

"The child was sired by Reggie."

"Oh, he's dead."

"Yea, which is why she can't stand Geoffrey. She only got pregnant so she could marry into a noble family."

Alfred hissed. "Well, good ridance she's gone. Where is Geoffrey now?"

"He's with Chancy right now. They're spending time in our room."

"Why aren't you there too?" Alfred asked, and Davie shrugged.

"Mother-son time is sacred, I don't wanna encroach when they're bonding the way they are. Chancy hadn't seen him for a week."

"That was almost two weeks ago." Alfred deadpanned, but Davie shrugged.

"So, with everything going on, he's a little shook." He rolled to his side. "Besides, I'm on duty right now, as you can see." Alfred breathed heavily through his nose.

"When I was babysitting Geoffrey, I thought I saw a little charm on him." Alfred said, once again, randomly. Davie made a noise that seemed to signify confusion as he sat up. He stayed quite for a moment, so Alfred turned to look at him. The knight looked pensive and his expression slowly darkened, finally releasing a dark groan.

"We agreed on baptizing him. What the fuck?" He muttered, standing up with a groan. "I'll be right back with my son." Alfred blinked a few times, taken aback.

'It's not that big a deal, the castle sorcerer gave me a whole bunch of charms! Look how I turned out." He called as Davie walked away. The Irishman turned slowly to look Alfred in the eye with awkward unbreaking eyecontact.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He asked. Alfred raised his hands in retreat, and the other walked off. He sighed, well, he tried to fix it, that's all that matters.

~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~

 **4 hours later...**

Davie didn't end up returning, the prince assuming he was deceased. You can't just take a baby from it's mother, they would never allow it. Alfred was planning to stop by their room but he didn't want to walk in on something... graphic, so he settled for living in suspense. "Arthur" he muttered over his paperwork, resting his head in his arms. "I'm sorry I failed you... again." Whenever he thought about it he hated himself. He was taken from right under his nose, the whole experience surreal. One moment he was there, hanging out with an old friend of his, and the next people are rushing at him telling him that Clara was found unconscious in the bathroom and that Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

He had looked for hours and hours until Francis had forced him into a carriage headed for the palace. He was hysterical, he was yelling and screaming, sobbing and whining until he had seen his mother. When he had seen her, it was as if he could could be a child so he confided in her, told her what had happened, and she comforted him as best she could. She was elated however, he knew that. The flicker in her eyes, she was glad someone had taken her future son in law.

Francis and Matthew are somewhere about the castle, Alfred hardly sees either of them the place is so huge. They spoke briefly yesterday though, Framis telling him not to give up, not until he searched the entirety of England twice. Alfred wouldn't dream of quitting, not now, not after he finally experienced love and how happpy he has been for the last few months. He was going to get Arthur, even if it kills him.

* * *

 **Arthur's POV...**

The brit hadn't had water in 2 days, resorting to drinking his own urine. He didn't want to live on this way, his stomach growling at a last attempt to get him to eat. "But there is no food." He said aloud. He took a few shaky breaths, closing his eyes. "God bless my soul, my friends' souls, and the souls of my brothers, amen."

"That's not how you pray."

Arthur yelped as he sat up for the first time in days, looking around wildly in the dark. He panted for a few moments, waiting to see if someone was there. He must have been losing his mind. He curled up into a ball and breathed in and out in order to calm himself down.

"I wasn't your imagination. It's us." Said a different voice, and Arthur screamed as something grabbed his legs, dragging him out of the circle. The brit thrashed and swung. The beast, the beast has returned to finish him off! He puched and kicked, ignoring the laughs and agitated grunting. "Arthur relax, it's me Alllister. What the fuck?" He pulled away, snapping his fingers. Soon the cave was illuminated, the brit hissing wildly as he rolled over to his stomach in order to bury his face in the ground. "I thought I felt you near here." He scooped the smaller up into his arms, the blonde not offering much protest.

"It hurts." He groaned, wrapping his arms around the other's neck. "I said it hurts." The redhead grunted in understanding, but he did nothing.

"I know, but it hurt when you rejected us, and when you sicked your French poodle on us. This is the least you deserve." He said as he marched out of the cave.

"I want Alfred."

"I might be able to arrange that." Allister said. "I might not want to, though." Arthur felt the warm air on his back as they group stepped out of the cave, shaking in discomfort. Did they at least bring some fresh clothes? "Our base isn't so far from here." The brit nodded in confusion before he remembered the redhead could read minds. Is there a bath there? And fresh water? "Yes, we do."

The three older men stopped and Dylan raised his hand, a liquid mercury-like portal appearing into existance. What is this? It's like the mirror on the ship. Allister chuckled lightly. "This, my kid-brother, is our mirror on the wall."

~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~

 **2 hours later...**

The blonde didn't appreciate his brothers entering the bath with him, scrubbing him down and washing him as if he were a baby. He stormed out of the bathhouse wihout a towel, but who cared, it was only greasy resistance fighters in the area. He made it into the main building, the house Arthur's parents used to live in. Not his childhood home by the coast, but a country house his parents lived in before they had children. It was deep inland, which the brit supposed was a decent hideout. The fields were very grassy and the house was rather large if he may say so himself. It had a few stories, perhaps added after the Kirklands moved out, and it had an abundance of rooms.

The brit was dragged out of his thoughts when he felt a towel wrap around him. He snapped his neck to see Seamus glaring at him. "Have some respect for yourself." He muttered, and the younger scowled at him. Seamus lead him into the house, walking him to his room where his other brothers were magically there before him. "We have questions about what happened."

"Who burned you?" Allister gave him a steely look as he asked, the brit taking a seat on the bed. Arthur bit his lip, grazing his fingers along the cross branded on his abdomen. He looked down at the rubbery skin, cool to the touch. This was the first time he had seen it in days and suddenly it felt so real, that someone really did this to him. His eyes began to burn as he sat and stared at his new blemishes, trying to imagine how Alfred would react to it. He'd be furious at the fact Arthur had gotten hurt, but it wouldn't change the way the way the other preceived him... but... What about their future kids? What if they asked why he got those burns? how? The brit finally let the tears fall.

"Some beast. A Human snake hybrid who kidnapped me on my way to the royal castle. It said it was tasked with protecting the palace, and that no witch will hollow the U.S's holy grounds." He explained. "It kept refering to itself as the castle sorcerer." Dylan approached the brit with a shirt, handing it to him gingerly.

'Well everything else is healing nicely. Don't get too caught up on a few crosses." He assured, and the brit nodded.

"Alfred is probably on his way here." He informed, dressing. The shirt was quite big, reaching a little past his thighs. 'It'll take a few weeks." Seamus shrugged.

"I want to meet him again anyway. By the look of you neck, your heat finally came in." He surmised, and the brit nodded, a light blush on his cheeks. "I'm happy for you, to say the least, but your relationship won't last too long if you can't defend yourself." The younger looked taken aback. Seamus was right though, he knew that. Him being so powerless was nothing but an incovenience to others. "That's why your training starts tomorrow."

"What?" Arthur asked, and the other two brother nodded to, turing to each other.

"Do you have those books we used to use?"

"Yes" Answered Dylan.

"And the knives?" Asked Allister.

"Yep." Answered Seamus.

"Then it is settled." Dylan declared. "You, my brother, will no longer live in fear. We shall train you in the dark arts."

"No" Arthur replied bluntly. "I don't want to kill anyone. I'm not a murderer."

Allister rolled his eyes. "No, but you don't have to necessarily kill anyone. Just hurt them enough to warn them never to cross paths with you again." He groaned. Arthur could sense that they were leaving something out.

"Do I have to give up anything?"

"No." Dylan answered, digging in the drawers for pants.

"Oh..." The younger brit looked around awkwardly at the familiar strangers around them.

"You don't really have a choice except for which one of us teaches you offensive, defensive, and curses." Allister muttered as he polished his nails. Arthur stared at him incredualously. He can't be serious. "I'm serious." Arthur looked down. "If you don't choose, We'll rock paper scissors."

"That's best."

"Okay..."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

T **he next morning..**.

Arthur yawned over the breakfast table, sipping on his porridge. He was half asleep, but his brothers didn't look much better, so he didn't feel bad for his appearance. He wore a white blouse left untucked over black slacks. His hair was a wild mess that drapped over his eyes. He looked over to Allister who lazily drank his coffee. "Are you going to teach me first?" the younger asked, and the the redhead slowly turned to him.

"Well, as your defense teacher," he said with a drawl, "It's my job to get you educated on the most important parts of your body. Therefore in a moment or two a few books will land on the table, and you'll study up for a few hours, then you'll transition to offensive magic with Dylan." He explained his schedule to Arthur, who half listened. He was thinking about how many books he would have to read through. "Pay attention, fool." Arthur nodded dumbly.

"You're going to read this book first." He said as it materialized on the table. "That book is your bible, got it?" The younger once again nodded, trying but failing to stop his excitement from showing. "It's gonna get boring real fast." Allister sighed, returnng to his coffee. The brit ignored his words and stared at his face. It was completely blank, eyes almost unblinking.

"Allister?"

"Yes."

"Can you turn your mind reading powers off? Or does it stay on forever..." Allister looked at his younger brother for a while before smiling softly.

"I can turn it off, but that means I turn off my own thoughts too. Completely quiet in here." he knocked on his forehead. Arthur scrunced up his face.

"That sounds awful" Arthur took another sip of his porridge.

"But it's helpful. I Just turn it off when it's time for bed." He shrugged. Arthur nodded.

"Have you ever tried reading a plants mind? Like a Tree?" Allister cleared his throat, sitting straighter, resting his elbows on the table.

'All of the time. That's how I found you. We utilize our surroundings." He answered, a little smug.

"Were you born like this?" Arthur asked, taking another sip. Allister nodded. "Yikes."

"We were all born with something. You?" He asked, and the brit shrugged.

"I guess omnilingualism." He looked up in time to see Dylan smile at him. Arthur tucked a strand behind his ear, looking down. "I found out a few weeks ago, but now I'm fluent in French. I've never tried it with other languages." he explained, and Allister nodded in understanding.

"I wish I could be of some help, but I know no other language." He looked back down at his coffee with the same blank expression. He must have shut down again. The brit couldn't help the pang of sympathy when he turned and saw the others' faces: Grey and depressed. They had every reason not to be happy, and they would need nerves of steel to not get depressed, but Arthur got the feeling that they hadn't been happy for a long time. Allister looked at him with slightly annoyed eyes, his mind reading abilities back on. "I am very happy." He said stiffly, and the younger just nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright. I didn't know we looked depressed." The other two brothers slowly landed their eyes on Arthur, eyes flashing in confusion. "Seamus yeah, but that's expected." He said after a little deliberation. Seamus glared at him before taking a sip of his own coffee.

"If we look so said, why don't you tell us something to lift our spirits?" He suggested, and the brit raised his brows. His life was a shitshow before recently.

"I have no stories of my own..." He mumbled as he pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. "Why don't you tell me something about our parents?" Seamus looked over to Dylan, who was lazily chewing on his bacon. He looked around slowly in a delayed reaction before nodding. Was he okay?

"Dylan is always like this." Allister said quickly, not elaborating further. Dylan cleared his throat, setting down his bacon.

"Dad left the throne for some reason, and he wandered before settling here, in this house." He sounded sluggish, and his statement was littered with yawns. "It was an inn around the time, and it was actually a mile west of here did he find mom, barely breathing." Arthur nodded, looking around the room. It would explain why the place was so large. "They got married, and he took her last name, Kirkland. Mom was a witch who only dabbled a little in the arts, she didn't tell dad. Then they moved to the coast, and, well, you know the rest."

Arthur scratched his head. Why did he leave the throne? Doesn't he realize what he gave up on a whim? Allister sighed. "We don't know why he left, so go easy on the old man." He requested, and the brit redirected his thoughts towards the weather.


	29. Chapter 29

**Alfred's POV...**

 **2 week later...**

Alfred was reading a few pamphlets in his chamber, absentmindedly running his hands through his hair. He was currently about 3 weeks away from the island of britain, hopefully 3 weeks away from Arthur. He sighed at the thought of him, scratching his neck. Right about now, on a normal day, the brit would be sleeping peacefully beside him, breathing softly and cuddled up against his body pillow. Then he would wake up out of nowhere, say he wanted breakfast and give brief instructions as of how he would like it. However, he would be back asleep before the food already came, and would eat it an hour or two late. The prince saw it as a bad habit, but he never had the heart to wake his mate up, he was far too cute when he was asleep.

A knock on the door took the prince out of his thoughts. "Come in." The door swung open to reveal John, the harold. "Yes?" The older man sat beside the prince silently. Alfred hummed for a moment before going back to his panphlets. "If you aren't gonna say anything..."

"You won't be home in time for your coronation." John said, but the prince frowned.

"That was obvious. I'll just move the date." Alfred sounded annoyed. Did he just come here to say that?

"If Arthur is on the island, with his brothers... what will you do?" He asked suddenly. Alfred set down his pamphlet on the mattress, sighing.

"So that's with this is about?" He sighed. "My priority is retrieving Arthur, not seek revenge on the red head." He turned to look at the older man. John looked at him with steely blue eyes, eyes that seemed to say that Alfred's words were unreliable.

"If Arthur doesn't want to be retrieved?" He asked, and Alfred was taken aback.

"Of course he'll want to come back. Don't say otherwise." He snapped. The last thing he needed was doubt. John looked unphased.

"A month is a long time, Alfred. They are his brothers." He continued. "He's known them for years, and he's known you for less than 6 months." Alfred shook his head with a groan. He didn't need this right now.

"John, I said-"

"Sometimes it doesn't matter what you say, Alfred. Sometimes you need to prepare yourself for rejection." He grabbed the prince by the shoulder. "So if Arthur rejects you, he is not boarding this ship back." He declared. "He decides where he wants to be and who he wants to be with. If he choses his family over you, you just have to suck it up and deal with it, do you understand?" Alfred looked at him with wide eyes. Who the hell did he think he was?! How dare he? He didn't make the rules... Arthur wouldn't just end things... He doesn't know anything, he's just a pessimist. He just lacks faith... Arthur would never... could never...

"Shut up and get out." The prince muttered. He ignored how breathless he sounded, and he wouldn't make eye contact with the older. "Now." He ordered, but John wouldn't move. "I said now!" His voice cracked slightly and he let out a frustrated groan. "I said get the fuck out! Get out! Why are you still here?!" His eyes were on fire. "John, I s-said get out! Just leave! Go! Why did you even come!? Leave me alone! Get out!" The prince stood up, pointing at the door. "Through there, get out!" Howver, John sat firmly, looking at the young prince with warm eyes.

"Alfred, calm down." What...

"What the fuck do you mean calm down?! You can't just expect me not to get angry when you tell me that my mate won't come back to me!" He screamed, and John shook his head.

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you fucking did!"

"No, I didn't, Alfred."

"Yes you fucking did! You did! Now get out!" He was shaking in anger. The old man sighed heavily.

"No."

"..." Alfred stared at him in immense confusion. "No?" John nodded, and the prince scowled. "Get out, this is the last time." John didn't move. "Fine, then I'm leaving!" He said, storming towards the door.

"I sometimes feels bad for you, my boy." John said, and the prince stopped. Excuse me? "You used to be so happy, and it hurt me to watch you become... whatever it is you are." Alfred furrowed his brow. What? "You are good natured, but that part of you isn't expressed. You have become, truly, a shell of your former self." Alfred turned slowly to face his guardian. "Emotionally, you are stunted, still that 11 year old boy who forgot how to cope with his emotions, so he hid it. Has Arther ever seen this boyish side of you? The uncontrolled side of you?" Alfred bit his lip, looking down as warm tears streaked his cheek. "You, despite your strength, are weak. You know that, which is why you want Arthur so bad. He lacks physically, but he is firm mentally. All the chaos in his life had only aided his emotional development. You want him because you think he'll be the perfect half for you. It's about you." Alfred shook his head.

"I love him."

"Sure... but does he still love you?" Alfred opened the door.

"Please leave, now." He said softly. John stood up slowly.

"Arthur's stong enough to leave you. So you need to be strong enough to let him go." He left the room, closing the door behind him. Alfred wiped at his tears, locking the door. He's not a shell of himself, he can smile and joke and laugh exactly like he used to. Theres just nothing to be that happy about. How could he be the same anyways, he had matured is all. His sense of humor has changed, he's still the same person...

 _Maybe, but John may have a point. I wasn't awake through a portion of your life, but you are nothing like you were before the accident_.

"Shut up. I was all jocund after the accident too, they mean before going to England."

 _What happened in England?_ Alfred narrowed his eyes. Everything, really.

"I had to kill alot of people, burn cities, watch as an entire country fell into ruin." He counted off. "I don't see how I could have kept my happy personality set. Especially once father left, I was in charge. I didn't have time for jokes, or friends really. I only really talked to Davie."

 _So you became recluse?_

"No, people saw me everyday. I just worked hard and alone." He retorted.

 _Dude, well maybe you just need to chill, go do things that remind you of your past._ Alfred scoffed.

"One, were in the middle of the ocean, two, I'm still looking for Arthur." He sighed heavily. He threw himself on the bed, breathing in the pillow.

 _We're on a boat?_

"Yes?"

 _Oh, I should pay more attention._

"Okay, you do that." Alfred hummed, and his subconcious scoffed.

 _What's with the humming, you never used to do that. Stop it._ Alfred scowled, groaning, not in the mood to argue to an invisible entity.

* * *

 **Arthur's POV...**

"Good job, now all you need to do is throw it." Dylan instructed, and Arthur nodded. He blinked wildly through his sweat and swung his arm in an over hand motion, watching as the mass of earth he was holding up in the air fell no more than 10 yard from him. He groaned as he fell to his knees, exhausted. That was his 7th attempt, nowhere near the 30 yard mark he was supposed to reach. "Again." Dylan said sternly, and Arthur swore.

"I think I'm gonna pass out." He complained. He looked up at Dylan with pleading eyes. The older had his light brown hair parted to the right, his warm green eyes and smile emitting security. Surely he'll let him rest a bit.

"So?" He said sharply, and Arthur looked taken aback. Huh? "You need to throw farther. Once you make it at least past 25 yards, you can have a break." Arthur groaned in protest. "Get up and throw again." The brit stood up wobbily, trying to ignore the feeling of his muscle tearing from his bone. He looked over at the cliff about 1 mile away and commanded a large chunk of earth. From there they can here the cliff crack and the sound of tumbling rocks. That was usually a sign of the bolder being detached. Now, the hard part was up next: keeping the boulder floating high enough of civilians not to see it and maintaining that height for an entire mile.

The brit panted as he focused on bringing the rock forth. In a few moments he would have to communicate with the hunk of rock, he needed to make sure he didn't fuck up like last time. "O powerful earth, I beseech you." He whispered. After a long moment of no response, he groaned, repeating himself a little louder. "O great earth, I beseech you!"

 _And who are to importune me? Muttered a deep voice in the front of Arthur's head. Oh, okay._

"My name is Arthur Pendragon, a humble servant of nature. I call on you for your cooperation." He said, and Dylan hummed in confusion. You see, you never ask for permission, you just take it. However, for the last 7 times that hadn't worked so maybe his approach was off. "I would like to toss you."

 _Excuse me?_

"I know, I know. That is a very inconvenient thing to ask of you, but please believe me when I say I won't drop you too hard." He promised, and the voice growled.

 _You took me from my home for practice?!_

"Yes, and I'm sorry. I really didn't have a choice-"

 _What can I do anyway!?_

Arthur cleared his throat, his outstretched arms shaking. He wouldn't last too long. "Please make yourself lighter."

 _Hmm..._

"Please, I beg of you. You are far too heavy I won't be able to keep you floating like this if you weigh 2 tons." The omega pleaded, and the boulder groaned.

 _Alright, but only for my own safety..._

Arthur's arms stopped shaking, the boulder now weighing a fraction of what it was a moment ago. The boulder then came in sight, moving much faster than any of the other ones, and soon it was hovering over Arthur's head. The brit raised his arm back and lurched it forward, the boulder flying through the air. It landed much farther than before, and the brit panted in anticipated success. That was well over 25 yards. Dylan disappear suddenly and resappeared as fast as he left. He sported a surprised expression that slowly turned into a smile. "34 yards." Arthur whooped. and Dylan slow clapped. "Go take that break before Seamus comes to get you." He said as he vaporized into a soft mist, travelling almost with the wind.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~

"Do it again." Seamus ordered. Arthur swore underneath his breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Don't catch an attitude with me, laddie. It won't end well for you." He warned. the brit sucked his teach, annoyed out of his mind, but he stopped cursing. "Good, now do it again." He repeated and Arthur grabbed the bright shiny red apple in front of him, holding it to his chest.

" _Thou has foresaken God, and in turn he has foresaken you. Thus, our mighty lord sent me to deliver to you your long awaited reckoning, and bring you closer to your punishment._ " He muttered in Latin. The apple in his hand became extremely warm, the encantation working. " _I shall deliver your soul back to my master, and he will cast you down to eternal damnation_." The apple began to smoke, Arthur coughing. Beads of sweat cascaded down his forehead from the intense heat of the apple. " _He shall revoke thee admittance to his paradise, just as thee revoke the teachings of good-will._ " He shook as his hands burned, twitching in pain. " _With that, I repel thee-_ " The apple bursted before he could even finish, leaving him a sticky mess. He groaned, flicking the remaining apple from his hands.

"Do it again." Seamus ordered, and the younger brit felt his left eye twitch. He breathed in and out, slowly walking away. "Where are you going, Arthur? I said do it again." Seamus said against his ear, Arthur flinching. How did he get here so quickly? The taller wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck from behind, squeezing threateningly. "I told you not to catch an attitude. When you fail, you try again, that's how people learn." He growled. Arthur felt his body shake involuntarily in fear, but he knew he was in real kind of danger. "Now stop being a stupid child, and fucking do it again." He ordered, unraveling himself from the younger.

"No." He mumbled in response, but at this point he was just trying to be difficult. "I'm tired and my hands feel like they're going to fall off. So fuck off, git." He growled softly, walking away again. He made it 10 feet away before he felt a burning sensation on his left calf. Arthur hissed in pain, but it was bearable, and he continued to walk. "Stop being immature. We'll continue these lessons when I feel better." He decided, and the pain stopped. Oh, did he relent? Suddenly the ground shook and a sizeable body of water appeared in front of the brit. Then out of nowhere, he was pushed in. The water was freezing cold, Arthur swearing as he tried to get up. However, his head was quickly forced down into the water, leaving him unable to breath. He struggled and thrashed, but his blows did no damage to his attacker, and he was left powerless.

His vision was getting darker, and he finally resorted to pushing on the ground around the water. His heart rate was through the roof, and water was now quickly filling his lungs. If he could cry out, he would, but he quickly began to lose strength in his limbs, eventually ceasing his struggling. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness when he was suddenly pulled out. He was tossed to the side, coughing up the water from his lungs. He panted as he caught his breath, rolling over to his side, quietly searching for his attacker. Was it Seamus? The Beast? Despite his oxygen intake being returned to normal, he still felt his conscious slipping.

"Seamus!" He called out. "Seamus!" Arthur couldn't hold on long enough to even hear a reply before he passed out.

* * *

 **Alfred's POV...**

He was quietly reviewing his notes when there was a second knock on the door. He hesitated to call to the door, not wanting another interaction with John. It was extremely late, around 2 am. Instead of saying his typical 'Come in' He asked who it was. There was no reply at first, so he had repeat himself. "Who is it?"

"John." Came a slow reply. Alfred swiftly told him to go away but the old man walked in anyway. "Listen to me, our last conversation didn't go too well." He sighed, approaching the prince, who just decided to be the bigger person and ignore him. "I would like to apologize." He said sternly, and Alfred rolled his eyes. He would always say this whenever he offended Alfred. "I didn't want to make you upset." He continued, kneeling in front of the prince, who was sitting at his desk." He grabbed the prince's hands and squeezed. "But I had to make sure my words made it through you."

Alfred could feel his blood boil, but he remained silent for the sake of his resolve. John sighed heavily, making unbreaking eye contact with the younger. After a few moments, the prince finally spoke, voice low and hoarse. "I forgive..." He offered. John quirked a brow, and Alfred felt his heart drop. The older would always make that face whenever he wanted him to elaborate. "I... I know you just want the best for Arthur, and I'm glad you care for him and want him to be happy..." He swallowed harshly, heat rising to his cheeks in frustration. "But you don't have to use that as an excuse to go off on me." He growled, and john looked confused.

"Alfred, I wasn't going off on you at all. And Arthur's future wasn't an excuse to make you angry." John said back, ignoring the prince's growl. Alfred shook his head wildly, standing up annoyed. He had no idea why it took him so long to realise, but it just clicked.

"You're still mad that I left him alone with a stranger." He accused, and the old man could only watch as the prince paced the room. "You think it's my fault this happened." John sighed, sitting down on the chair the prince just left. Alfred slowly approached the older man. "You blame me for what happened." Eventually, the prince was a mere two feet from the harold, kneeling down in front of him. John slowly placed a hand on the other's cheek.

"Alfred, you couldn't have known." He comforted, wiping the warm tears from the younger's cheeks. "It wasn't your fault, I know that... it's just... this isn't the first time you've let him get hurt. I just want you to be ready for the time he, as an omega, chooses his safety over his feelings." Alfred shook his head in disagreement, but continued to listen. "I need you to be ready in case it happens. You need to be strong enough to return to your your country and be king. I don't have a doubt in my mind that Arthur will choose you. Your mother-"

"I hate her."

"Don't say that ab-"

"I said I hate her!"

"Alfred! This isn't the time, and I'm not the person to say that to." John warned. "She loves you and Matthew. She means well."

"She's awful." The prince spat. John growled, and Alfred growled back. The older man pinched Alfred's nose in response, and the younger, despite himself, chuckled. "I don't know what you see in her." John chuckled.

"She's beautiful." He sighed. Alfred shrugged, not going to call his mother hot. "Especially before you were born." Alfred hummed, and John hummed back. "I could hardly keep my hands off of her."

"Even after she got married." Alfred continued for him. John shrugged. "If it weren't for the fact that my father had a row of mistresses, I would have outted your affair." He deadpanned. John, once again, shrugged.

"Glad to see that you're better." He muttered, and Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Get out of my room, you're old and should be getting sleep." The prince advised. John let loose a mighty laugh and stood up, hand on his back, feigning pain. "Don't let the door hit you." Alfred reclaimed his seat, once again reading his notes as the door closed softly.

* * *

 **Arthur's POV...**

Arthur woke up with a start in his room, pulling his knees up to his chest and checking his surroundings. No one was present. He sighed, trying to remember the last things that had happened to him. He had practice with Seamus... and then the little argument. Arthur felt more tired than usual, standing up and stretching. His shirt, he could feel, was damp. Did he get wet?

That's when it all hit him, flashes of the attack returning. Someone had just tried to kill him. He stumbled around the room, his elevating panic causing him to lose balance. Someone tried to drown him! Someone is after him! "Seamus! Seamus!" He screamed, sinking to the floor, the room around him blurring out and spinning. "Seamus!" He cried out once more, but he couldn't hear his own voice. He tugged on his hair as a piercing ring vibrated through the room. "Seamus!" He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the noise to abate. It did eventually, and the brit slowly opened his eyes. However, he wasn't in his room.

It was night time, and it was almost pitch black out. The brit, however could make out a few things. There was an old house on the side of the road. There were birds all over the front of the house, and the field around it was lush with weeds and potatoes. He approached the house, not recognizing it one bit. He was standing just across the street from the house when the door suddenly opened and a young teen girl slunk, pulling a hood over her head. Just then, it began to rain, but the brit couldn't feel the droplets. He called out to the girl, but she began to walk in his direction. "Hello?" The girl was about 3 feet from him now, walking on as if she could not here him. "Excuse me? I-" The girl walked right passed him, or rather, right through him. He was mist, he wasn't really there. Well, great.

The brit walked right across the street and when he got to the front door of the shabby house, as suspected, he could walk right through the door. The inside of the house was cozy, to say the least. It had a fire place, animal heads on the wall, two couches. The brit gave a little spin. There was a staircase that lead up and downstairs, probably to the bedroom. Why was he here?

"Arthur?" The brit jumped at the utterance of his name, snapping his head in search of the voice. The voice was followed by some footsteps coming down the stairs. Arthur took a few steps back towards the door, in case it wasn't his friend, but the voice was definitely familiar and the brit felt his excitement rise. A man with shoulder length blonde hair with ice blue eyes appeared at the bottom of the staircase. His nose was slightly upturned, and his lips were plump. His figure was curvy and he stood at around 5 feet and 4 inches.

"Chancy?" The brit practically ran forward and frenchman did two, the pair colliding harshly and falling to the floor. "Chancy?" He couldn't believe it. What was going on?

"Arthur, where are you? Are you safe? Are you okay?" He asked, scrambling to his knees. His eyes were wet, the brit could tell, and so he couldn't resist pulling him back into a hug. They stood like that for a moment before Chancy finally pulled away. "Arthur? Tell me everything that happened." The brit nodded, standing up and sitting on the couch.

"Okay, but tell me where Alfred is." The brit demanded. Was he alright? Was he doing fine?

"Alfred and John are on their way to England to look for you. Are you there?" Chancy asked, and the brit nodded, looking down. He's coming for him? He didn't give up? Arthur felt his eyes water, but he held back his tears.

"Yeah, I'm with my brothers." Chancy's expression turned dark, so the brit explained. "They found me in a cave. When we went to the town hall in that one town, this beast kidnapped me and held me captive in a cave in England for days. They found me about 2 weeks ago and have been helping me regain my strength." Chancy sighed, relieved. "What's going on here?" The brit asked suddenly, and Chancy quirked his brow.

"This is my dream scape. I needed to make sure you were alive. It took me a few tries, but I finally got it down." He said, and Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"The room was spinning and there was a ringing noise..." Chancy bit his lip and shrugged.

"Sorry, I used my mirror as a way to congure instead of the lake in the palace." Arthur nodded before slowly piecing things together.

"You used the mirror this time and the room was distorted. You used the lake last time... so I almost drowned. You were the that drowned me!" Arthur shoot up, looking down at the frenchman with heated eyes. Chancy looked shocked and confused before something dawned on him.

"I'm sorry. The spell was going to pull you through the puddle swiftly but then Davie and his parents stormed up to me and the spell was interrupted. I tried to ignore them but them one of them agitated the water and the connection was lost." Chancy explained with a pained smile. "I didn't mean to hurt you." The brit groaned, sitting down again, shrugging.

"It's fine, I guess." He said, and Chancy slowly moved closer to him until he was close enough to bury his nose in Arthur's neck. Arthur fliched a little bit, but allowed the action, breathing in a little of Chancy's scent. He looked around the room for a bit. "Is this your old house?" He asked suddenly, and Chancy simply nodded. "Oh, it's... cozy." Arthur complimented, and the frenchman looked up at him.

"My mother's in the next room, do you want to meet her?" He asked, and the brit was confused.

"Isn't this a dream?"

"Yes." Chancy answered. "But before you arrived, my mother came to say hi. She does that sometimes because it's a more efficient way to communicate than letters." He stood up and walked over to the stairway, waiting only for the brit to follow. Arthur sighed softly and stood up, making his way after Chancy. The stairs were narrow, so Arthur had to walk behind Chancy and not next to him. When they got to the top of the stairway, there were three doors. Chancy quickly walked towards the door on the right, knocking twice before poking his head in. He then began to speak in French. " _Mommy, my friend is here, and he wants to me you_."

Thats when the brit relalized for the entirety of their conversation they were indead speaking in English. Did Chancy pick up the language that fast? " _Oh, oh my... uh, does he know about my..._ " She trailed off, and the brit could here the discomfort in her voice.

" _They're just burns, mommy. He'll be fine._ " The then turned to the brit and whispered to him. "She was burned at the stake a few years back, and she has some scars. Try not to stare _._ " He informed. The brit recalled that fact having something to do with teen girls. Chancy opened the door and walked in, Arthur following closely behind. The room was similar to the room in the hotel, actually, exactly like the room in the hotel. Chancy must have read his mind, because he addressed the subject. "I've never seen the inside of my mother's room before, so I used the image from the hotel to fill the void." He explained. That made sense.

Arthur cleared his throat and introduced himself to the women sitting down in the arm chair. " _My name is Arthur Pendragon, it's nice to meet you_." He said in French with a bow. The woman nodded, impressed before replying.

" _My name is Iridessa Cecelia Lafayette. It is a pleasure._ " The Woman had long flowing blonde locks that reached the floor. Her skin was smooth and pale, and her eyes were an icy blue. Her nose was straight and her lips were plump. He couldn't see any burns, and he didn't look a day over 30. Though she was sitting down, it was clear Chancy took his figure after her. It was as if the woman could read his mind because her cheeks became pink and her smile was contagious. " _Yes, I know, I do look very much like my son._ " Arthur took a seat next to Chancy, who sat on the bed.

" _Mom, I told you you're still attractive._ " Chancy teased, and the woman swatted his embarrasing words away.

" _But the burns-_ "

" _With all due respect, I don't see any burns_ " Arthur interjected, and Chancy shook his head.

" _Most of the scars had healed already, there's just a little bit behind her ears, but no one could see it because of her hair._ " Arthur nodded in understanding. He looked at the woman and looked away after a few seconds so it didn't look like he was staring. She was truly gorgeous.

" _Stupid Americans, all they're ever good at it hindering beauty._ " She complained to herself, before covering her mouth. " _No offense to your mate._ " she quickly added, Arthur looked at Chancy. She knew? " _My son tells me everything._ " She explained, a little flustered. " _A Kirkland boy..._ " Arthur bit his lip, a little nervous. " _I knew your parents, beautiful couple_." She said, making a glass of wine appear out of nowhere.

" _You knew my parents?_ " Arthur was once again excited. " _How? When?_ " Chancy and his mother mother chuckled nicely.

" _Well, I only said a few words to your father, but I knew your mother for decades. Since birth, really._ " She took a sip of her wine. _"I was a friend of her mother back in her youth. I would travel all over the world: Baghdad, Italy, Spain, Canada. We met in Lancashire, though, I was there on business. She was a pregnant woman at the time, with your mother. Her husband had just disappeared, you see, out of thin air about 4 months into her pregnancy. By the time I had met her, she was about to pop. She didn't look phased though, she had a home, a coven, who would take care of that child alongside her, she didn't miss her husband. We bonded over witchcraft, and I delivered her baby. I lived in Lancashire for perhaps the next decade, and I helped teach your mother magic alongside your grandmother. Your mother was just the cutest thing: Whole front row of teeth gone because she though she was strong enough to fight one of the pigs. She was adorable, it broke my heart when I had to leave, my own coven catching up to me and forcing me to return home_." She sighed, annoyed.

 _"Did you ever see her again?_ " Arthur asked.

" _Why yes, almost a decade later when she walked into my dreamscape to personally invite me to her wedding. That's when I met your father. He was such a handsome man. He knew about your mother's coven and magic, he didn't seem to care one bit. He decided to take her last name to keep his hidden, however, and I understood why_."

" _You know why he left the thrown?_ " Arthur asked, and she nodded her head.

" _He couldn't stand the job, and the royal courts annoyed him. He went on a walk one day, and he just decided to runaway. He claims it wasn't that hard._ " She said, and Arthur shook his head.

" _That idiot_."

" _I said the same thing_." She nodded. " _But, I guess it worked out for him, he met the love of his life, and had a beautiful family._ "

" _But those stupid Americans._ " Chancy interjected, and his mother nodded.

" _I hadn't seen them since the wedding, but I'm guessing they are no longer with us_." She said softly, and the brit nodded his head. " _Igraine was a beauty_."

" _Do you mind me asking your age?_ " Arthur asked softly. " _I'm just curious because you knew my grandmother so..._ "

" _Oh, not at all._ " She said with a grin. _"I'm a little under 300 years old. I stopped aging though, like most witches. Iggy never looked a day over 25._ " She commented.

" _But I'll age right?_ " Arthur asked, and She shrugged.

" _It depends on whether you want to or not. All of those tall tales about witches wanting youth make no sense. A little rose water and a light encantation will turn you into any age you want. I've never eaten a human heart, yet here I am, looking as I did on my wedding day. If you want to grow old with your mate, you will._ " She cleared up. Hmmm.

" _You're married?_ " She looked up and smiled.

" _Yes, to the most beautiful man-_ "

" _Mom-_

" _Chancy, hush. Your father is still handsome._ " She scolded, and her son shrunk back. Arthur turned to him in time to see the discomfort in his eyes.

" _We don't need to talk about your father._ " Arthur assured, and Chancy smiled appreciatingly.

 _"Oh, alright, I guess no one cares about ancient war heroes._ "

" _Mom!_ "

" _War Hero_?" Arthur asked, and Chancy groaned. The brit patted his thigh in apology before Irridessa spoke.

" _Yes, Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, the love of my long arduous life_." Arthur quirked a brow, but Chancy growled. _"Chancy, stop, or else I'll bring him here_." She threatened, and Chancy whined.

" _Mom~~~~~_ "

 _"Daddy loves you very much, now stop being a baby. How did you expect him to react, huh? You mated without our permission, did you want us to crack oven a bottle? He's furious with you_." She gave her son a firm look. " _He doesn't even know about witchcraft. He's an Irish Catholic!_ " She continued to scold.

" _It doesn't matter where he's from mom, it should be enough that I love him._ " He shot back calmly. " _If you and dad meant any of the words you said when you told me to follow my heart, why does it matter? We're mated now._ "

 _"For now."_ She shot back. " _Your father is furious, and he'll probably stop at nothing._ " She warned. " _He won't let our grandchildren be catholics, or christian, or anything but pagan._ " She continued. " _Whatever happens to Geoffrey happens, but the children you give birth to, will be pagan._ "

" _We'll see about that_." He said, slowly griping his stomach. Arthur quirked a brow before interjecting just one point.

" _Davie is a really good man, though. Try not to let his faith blind you_." He advised, and Irridessa scoffed.

" _You should tell that to Davie's mother then._ " She retorted, and the looked confused. " _Oh, he didn't tell you yet? That old bat had the nerve to put her hands on my son!_ " Her eyes were blazing, her rage evident in her voice.

" _Mom... Davie had already talked to her about it, and she apologized._ " Chancy said meekly.

" _She slapped you because she was digging around in your stuff and found your ritual book_." Irridessa growled. " _That would have been more than enough reason to rid the world of her right then and there._ " Arthur was a little taken aback, more about Davie's mother's actions than the little growl.

" _She slapped you? And all Davie did was talk to her?_ " Arthur looked confused, but Chancy glared at him.

" _What else was he supposed to do? Put her in a choke-hold? That's his mother!_ " He sneered.

" _You're his omega, you are his priority!_ " She yelled, standing up. " _When an alpha's mother doesn't approve of their mate, the alpha distances themself from their mother! It has been like that for centuries, yet he is still speaking with her!_ " His mother barked. " _He is no good for you! He is too weak for you! You need to come home and find a real alpha who will treat you right!_ " Arthur noted how her icy blue eyes were a light silver. He could feel her powerful energy emmitting from her person. He turned to his friend to find him close to tears, blinking them back wildly. His eyes too were silver, and his cat ears were showing. Slolwly his arms wrapped around his stomach and tears streamed down his cheeks.

Chancy sobbed as he stood up suddenly, bolting out of the room. Both Irridessa and Arthur were in complete shock before they made a move to follow after him. By the time they got downstairs, Chancy was nowhere in sight, and the walls were fading.

" _He woke up. The dreamscape is dissappearing._ " She explained, and Arthur nodded.

 _"It was a pleasure to meet you."_ He said, offering a hand. She took it and shook it firmly.

" _Likewise_."


	30. Chapter 30

**2 Weeks later...**

 **Arthur's POV**

Arthur and Allister walked with their elbows link through the field of corn. The stalks were taller than Arthur himself, so he needed Allister, who stood at 6 feet and one inch, to help guide them. "Where is Dylan and Seamus again?" Arthur asked, and the Allister shrugged.

"Who knows." The brit rolled his eyes. He wasn't surprised he would respond like that, he was extremely stressed. He was preparing for another batch of Americans to arrive in about a week, he needed to prepare his men. They were currently for blindspots they could probably watch the Americans without getting spotting. The cornfield would be a good option.

"Dylan! Seamus!" Arthur called out, and Allister hushed him.

"Even if they're here, they won't answer you." Allister sneered. Would he stop being so irritable. "I'm not the irritating one, you are! Why won't you stay!?" Oh that is what this was about. The brit had amde it known to them two weeks agao that he was planning on staying with Alfred. Of course they were upset, but everyone had come to terms with it. Well, almost everyone.

"Allister, I told you that I love him. You should be happy that I'm happy." He scowled. Allister is so selfish. He isn't two years old, he's 21 (his birthday was a few days ago), and he was old enough to make his own decisions. "God, I just wish you'd trust me! Ugh!" The brit stormed off, the redhead, following behind. Eventually he grabbed the brit by the shoulder and forced him to turn around and face him.

"It's not that I don't trust you, I don't trsuts him! He's no good! The Americans are idiots!" He yelled, shaking Arthur violently. He stopped, looking Arthur right in the eyes. "You're a genius, so there is obviously something I'm just not getting. Which is why even if you don't stay, I'll respect your decision. However, up until then, I will keep trying to convince you to stay with us, your family."

The utterance of the word family made Arhur's cheeks warm. He had to admit he liked this place more than anywhere else he had ever stayed. The people here were nice and hard working, and they were all working towards a noble cause: rebuilding their home. Arthur like being apart of that, contributing in ways he can like delivering water and making sandwiches. This place really did feel like home, and if he were put under these same circumstances months ago, he probabaly would have taken his brothers up on it. They were family, and they always will be. Allister blushed, obviously listening in to Arthur's thought. The smaller man scowled. "Would you mind your business!"

"Would you two stop making so much noise." Seamus grunted. Dylan was right behind him, like always. They looked normal, though the bags under their eyes showed they had litle sleep. Allister sucked his teeth.

"Did you two drink all night?" Allister asked, voice free of malice. The three of his brothers looked at the redhead like he was crazy. Was he asking a real question? "Yes, I was. The two of you are getting too lax. Dylan, to the water mill, Seamus to the blacksmiths." He ordered, and his two brothers scoffed in defiance.

"I just came from there" Dylan shot back.

"Same here." Seamus growled.

"Liars, I did my morning rounds over there an hour ago and you were nowhere to be seen. I won't repeat myself." Allister deadpanned. He was serious. The two scoffed in disbelief before walking off in opposite directions. The sun was high in the sky, blinding Arthur a little bit, the corn surprisingly offering little shade. "Actually, lets check somewhere else. This place is too sunny." Arthur suggested, and Allister shrugged, changing directions. They made it out of the corn field, the pair spotting Dylan who was currently speaking to Brutus.

Brutus was a farmer who towered over Dylan's five feet and nine inches with a whopping 6 feet 3 inches. He had dark hair and light grey eyes, and he was built like a tank. His muscles rippled with every movement, a stark contrast to Dylan's almost feminine body. Of course his brother was a bit more masculine than Arthur, seeing that he was an alpha. However, Dylan looked like a woman compared to Brutus, a beta who was only a year younger. It appeared the pair hadn't notice the two watching them yet, Dylan looking down at his feet, blushing at something the other must have said. He shyly tucked a light brown strand behind his ear before Brutus suddenly grabbed his hands. Arthur watched with a smirk, he read enough books to know what was next.

Brutus brought his hands to his lips and kissed them softly, Dylan's face beet red. Brutus said something, which judging on Dylan's face, was completely unexpected. They stared at each other for a moment before Arthur's brother nodded, the two embracing in a hug. Arthur smiled. It must feel nice to be formally confessed to and courted. The brit noticed the way Brutus inserted himself in Dylan's inner circle just to flirt, catching the soft spoken rebel leader off guard. He was attractive without a doubt, but Seamus's blunt attitude and Allister's wild red hair usually drew almost all the attention towards themselves, so Dylan wsn't normally hit on.

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted by a loud growl from Allister, a snarl so loud Brutus and Dylan heard it, the pair now looking over in Arthur's direction. The redhead march on over to his brother, Arthur following close behind. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" Allister spat. Dylan sighed heavily as he pulled away from Brutus, face contorted into that of severe annoyance.

"What did it look like, Allister?" Dylan shot back.

"I said go to the water mill." Allister was now a few feet from his younger brother, though Dylan seemed unphased. Brutus on the other hand, looked mildly confused as he greeted Arthur.

"Good evening. What are you doing out here Arthur?" He asked. The brit shrugged.

"Good evening. I was just scouting for some good hiding spots from the Americans. Is your farm near here?" Arthur asked, looking around. He could've sworn his farm was on the opposite side of the main house. Brutus shook his head.

"No, I only came by because Dylan had left something at my house." He explained cheerily. The brit nodded, all of the pieces coming together.

"So... He spent the night at your house." The blonde surmised outloud, and Brutus nodded, before shaking his head wildly, a scarlet blush all over his cheeks.

"Not like that, we just talked and we fell asleep." He said, swallowing harshly. Arthur pursed his lips, that didn't explain why Dylan looked so tired. What were they really doing? Arthur looked over at his older siblings just in time for Allister to shove the brunette. Dylan didn't respond at first, still not quite catching what was going on. It was only until 7 seconds later did he realize what the redhead had done, the brunette scoffing and walking away from his brother. He approached Arthur and Brutus, lacing his finger in the latter's and tugging him along down the road. Brutus was once again blushing, but he didn't pull his hand away.

Allister was going to go head after them if it weren't for Arthur stepping in his way. "You are perhaps the most inconsiderate and selfish person I had ever met." Arthur shook his head, repeating the statement in his mind so the redhead could hear it again and again. "First of all, you accuse him of being a drunk, then you have the nerve to interrupt his formal confession just to reiterate it. What's wrong with you?" Arthur chastized, and Allister glared at him.

"Shut up, you idiot. You try running a whole underground organization." He spat, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Seamus and Dylan are your co-leaders, not your subordinates, so you need to treat them with respect." Arthur shot back, walking off towards the big house. He could hear Allister growl, but he couldn't hear the sound of footsteps, so he could only assume the redhead wasn't following him. Arthur was completely fine with it, not really wanting to be around his negative personality. Usually it's tolerable, a little funny even, however, right now, the brit believed he had his fill of the abrasive character of his brother. Don't get Arthur wrong, he knew he himself was hardly pleasant to be around, but he kept his inner frustrations to himself, like a good civilian. Allister seriously couldn't have thought his behaviour was okay. Arthur felt himself get unusually angry over the incident. Would he be just as rude to Alfred when he arrives?! Does he realize the situation Dylan's in? How insead of being a prick, he should have be happy for his younger brother?

"What's got your panties in a twist, lad?" He heard Seamus mutter as he walked over to the brit. Arthur looked around to see that he was by the blacksmith shop, therefore putting him a mere 4 minutes away from the big house. Arthur shook his head. It wasn't a big enough deal to actually talk about it. "Okay then, I guess it has noting to do with you and that prince of yours?"He asked. Arthur shook his head.

"It's not about Alfred." He assured. Seamus nodded, and there was an awkward silence between them. They've never really been alone outside of practice since the night Arthur visited Chancy in his dream, and the encounter was a little awkward. The younger couldn't exactly remember what happened, but he knew Seamus was a second away from placing Arthur under a death curse, which outraged the omega. He yelled and cursed, accusing Seamus of attempted murder, but the older calmly explained to him that it was actually a deaf curse, so that the ringing noise would go away after he had woken up. The older avoided him like the plague for the next two days, and bailed out of their curse lessons. Eventually they did continue, but there is a distance that had never been there before.

"Oh, okay." Seamus said quietly. Arthur bit his lip and linked their elbows in a way to show endearment, an albeit desperate move to end the awkwardness. Seamus didn't pull away, he just sighed in annoyance. Arthur looked up at him with big green eyes, only to see narrow grren orbs glaring back at him. "You aren't staying, aren't you?" He spat, and the younger bit his lip, deciding to shake his head in response. "I'm pissed." He deadpanned.

"I love him." He exhaled, and Seamus shook his head.

"He's not adequate." Seamus said bluntly. "He can't protect you like we can. What happens when you are summoned into another person's dream again, and the ringing leaves you incapacited for days? What'll happen if you run across the royal sorceror?" He asked calmly, and Arthur bit his lip. "You know the answer isn't good, which is way you keep biting your lip." Arthur frowned, looking down at his feet.

"You guys say that, but I can't help but feel safer with him." They continued to walk, neither saying a word to the other as they approacched the big house. They settled themselves in the living room, Seamus intentionally seating so close to Arthur that he could feel the heat radiating off of the other. Eventually, Arthur spoke. "He'll be here in a week, you should get ready to be civil. Promise me you will or else I'll leave the second he arrives." Arthur demanded, and Seamus growled, pulling his younger brother into his chest in a tight embrace.

"You can't tell me what to do." He muttered. Arthur was about to protest, but then Seamus hushed him. "But as long as he doesn't offend us, I'll stay polite." He placed a soft kiss on his younger brother's forehead, Arthur ignoring the heat in his cheeks. "However, though you just love making us angry, I won't tolerate any inappropriate actions between you and your... mate." Arthur scoffed, and Seamus growled sharply, the omega flinching in shock. Oh, he was serious.

"Dead serious."

The pair turned to see Allister standng by the doorway with Dylan, the two looking as if they made up already. "He'll probably need to restock and rest on land for a couple of days, so we'll make accomidations for him." He proclaimed. Arthur swallowed harshly, shaking his head.

"We have a fortress near the coast, he won't have to stay..." He stopped speaking when at the sound of a slow growl erupted from the throats of his older brothers. "Uh, I mean... Of course we'll stay here."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

1 week later...

Arthur groaned as his horse neighed, tired once again. He slipped off and walked alongside it, offering it some water from a special canister designated for him. "Good boy." he whispered, petting his nose. He waited to hear the horse's response, but it remained silent. Arthur was trying his hand at speaking to animals without using a communication spell, however, it wasn't going well. He continued to walk, a slight hop in his step as he brothers rode on past him. They were currently headed towards the fortress Sauvage, the siblings getting word that the Americans were a day away. They had departed from the big house 2 days ago, Dylan staying behind because he had fell into heat. Without a doubt he was with Brutus, and his other brothers knew that, which was way they were in an awful mood. He guessed no matter how old one gets, he's still someone's baby brother.

"Arthur, hurry up, we're a few hours away." Seamus huffed, and Arthur nodded, pulling on the reigns of his horse to make him move a little faster. The three walked in comfortable silence, taking in the scenery, the younger in particular because these were his last few days at home. Soon Alfred would come, take him back to the U.S, and Arthur would have to navigate the political scene and make new friends. He would have to fix his hair, put on makeup and corsets, and turn himself into the perfect queen. He groaned. The next year would be miserable, but he guessed he had motherhood to look forward too.

"Are you kidding me?" Allister sighed, annoyed. "If you need to constantly convince yourself to be with that American, at least have a better motivator than motherhood." Arthur was taken aback, bastard was in his thoughts again.

"For your information, motherhood would be a splendid motivator." Arthur sneered. "I'm not convincing myself of anything either."

"Sounded like it, but if you say so, right?" Allister shrugged.

"Let's settle down, we're close." Seamus interevened. "Arthur get on my horse, Claud will walk by us." He continued, stopping his horse. Arthur walked over, accepting Seamus's help up onto the significantly taller horse, Allister raising a bit of earth beneath him to make the endeavor easier. Once on the saddle, Arthur wrapped his arms around Seamus's waist. "I don't want you thinking anything to Allister" he said sternly, and Arthur scowled at the redhead's snicker.

"Bitch." Arthur muttered, and Seamus cleared his throat in warning. "I'm done." Arthur assured, and the soft canter of the horses started up again.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

They were currently seated under a large oak tree, eating some berries they picked on the way. The Americans were probably at the fortress by now, having arrived the day before. They were only a mere 2 hours away. Arthur licked his lips, taking a sip of his water. He found his cheeks heating up with the thought of seeing Alfred again. How would he react? Arthur had lost a few pounds, but that was because he was starved in the cave for a few days. How would he react to the crosses? Arthur felt his mood damper a bit. The crosses were actually etched into his skin, though the skin was once again milky white. It used to a sickening pink and dark purple, and when he wore pants for too long they would itch. He had to soak them in salt water for the first week or so.

"We should get going." Allister said suddenly. "I want to get this over with." Arthur shruuged, getting up. Seamus groaned, standing up and rubbing his lower back.

"I'm getting to old for this. Why didn't we take the mirror?' He said, helping Arthur onto his horse. Allister eyed him curiously as the blonde climbed on top of his own horse.

"We can't use it unless Dylan's with us. He's the only one who could neutralize the effects of the mirror." He exhaled. "We'll be there shortly, just hold on."

* * *

 **Alfred's POV...**

The fortress looked quite empty without the chatter of his knights, but they were back home where they belonged. When Alfred arrived on the first day, he was half expecting Arthur to be here in the fortress, perhaps visiting Maggie anf the rest of the staff he had allowed to remain in the fortress. Like John had expected, Arthur's fake father had been lodging there. They greeted each other, and Alfred had informed him that once reunited with Arthur they would head to the U.S as soon as possible. Alfred was currently sitting in his solar having tea with both John and Arnold Pendragon.

"We should send out the search party." Arnold advised. "I would prefer that the child be safe, considering he is now my legal responsibility." His british accent was very thick, and he sported a thick blonde mustache. His hair was short and blonde, and he had piercing gray eyes. His expression was the same calculating expression he made whenever they had made business deals in the past. Alfred felt his blood boil; the old geezer only thought of Arthur as an investment. The man suddenly smiled, speaking smoothly. "I've never met him personally, but all I do know that he is the son of my late 3rd cousin, Uther. Even then, it is hardly a connection. Forgive me if i come off a bit unphased by this tragedy." Alfred narrowed his eyes, the brit practically reading his mind.

"I see no offense." Alfred assured, lying. John yawned, interrupting the conversation.

"I still can't believe Arthur's really royalty, however, I should have guessed." He sipped his tea, Alfred narrowing his eyes at him. The prince exhaled deeply, turing his attention back to his guest.

"Are you sure you remember the cover story correctly?" He asked, changing the subject. Arnold quirked a brow, nodding.

"Very complex, however, at this point you might as well just tell the truth." He retorted, taking a sip of his own tea. Alfred hummed, and the business man continued. "Unless... you don't know what the truth is." He inquired, and the prince grumbled. "Well, my 'son' seems to be the sneaky type, perfect for my arms business." Alfred felt his anger rise, and despite the look on John's face, he sneered.

"He's nothing like you." He growled, and the brit scoffed. "He didn't go out of his way to lie, I just didn't want to pester him about his past." He explained. Arnold smiled coldly.

"Interesting, but if this transaction were to be successful" He began. "He would have to share some of my qualities." Alfred growled again, but John cleared his throat.

"Alfred, maybe you should take a ride and blow off some steam." he suggested, and Arnold nodded.

"I think it's for the best."

"Arnie, it doesn't matter what you want." John whispered hoarsely, and the business man smiled.

"Fine." Alfred interrupted, standing up and rushing out of the room.

~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~

 **1 hour later...**

Alfred sat underneathe an oak tree, petting a horse that wasn't his. His horse was at the fortress, the beast was sleeping and despite the prince's rage, he couldn't wake it up. He barrowed John's horse, Clayton, and rode off. The stallion was a plain black horse, nothing particularly special but it's dislike of sweets. The prince settled on feeding it bitter berries he had plucked from some bushes, the horse enjoying the snack. "You are so weird." He said softly, petting him. Suddenly familiar warm feeling at the back of his head returned for the first time in a month. Alfred felt a smile tug on his lips, Arthur was close by; he knew it.

Alfred quickly gathered his things, alerting his four-legged companion. He swiftly climbed on and started to slowly canter, trying to figure out where the brit was. He could figure no sense of direction, so he left it up to fate and headed east.

* * *

 **Arthur's POV...**

 **1 hour later...**

After heading south for another hour, the fortress was finally in sight. Arthur had a million thoughts rushing through his head. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! All of his friends who stayed behind were there. He would get to see Maggie again. He would get to the butlers and maids again. Arthur was nervous. Alfred was near by, he could sense his presence again. The sensation was a stress reliever, making the omega more in tuned to their encounter. The soft canter of the horses, and the green of the thick canopy of leaves above the trio made the brit feel fuzzy.

"We're about two minutes away." Allister said, voice devoid of emotion. Arthur was a little concerned over his sudden focus, but he trutsed the other to act maturely. They finally arrived at the main gate of the fortress, the trio unsure of how to get across. "Maybe we can knock." Allister said, banging on the gate. "Helloo! The price's mate and his brothers are here!" He called obnoxiously. Seamus and Arthur hopped down, stretching.

"Maybe we should climb it." Arthur suggested to Seamus, who shrugged, the pair walking off in order to find a suitable wall to grapple. They eventually found a wall with a couple of cracks one could use to fit their feet in.

"I'll go, you stay here." Seamus ordered, and the younger nodded. It was his idea, but he guessed it was okay. As the other climbed over, Arthur returned to Allister, who had grown tired of knocking. Allister smirked as he peaked into Arthur's thoughts.

"You can't blame him for wanting to go in alone. What if there are armed guards?" He asked, and and Arthur scowled at him. How many times did he have to tell the other to leave his thoughts alone! Allister smiled again, turning his attention once more to the gate in front of him, which had started to churn.

"Damn this crap is heavy." Seamus grunted, hardly moving the door an inch. The redhead laughed, helping the other by putting his fingers through the opening and pulling, his laughter swiftly turning into agravated grunts. Arthur laughed, unsure of why they wouldn't use magic.

"Use magic." He suggested, and Allister stopping tugging, the door now open less than a foot wide. His cheeks were red, and he was panting, however, he looked oddly determined. Arthur could hear Seamus panting too, laughing at the comparison of their combined strength and Alfred's on his own. The prince had easily moved the door without breaking a sweat. The redhead rolled his eyes as he truned back, pulling at the door.

"Real men don't use magic to open unlocked doors." He grunted, Seamus gruffing in affirmation. Oh dear. Arthur walked off, not really wanting to watch this pathetic sight any longer. He strolled over to the wall on the far left and climbed up carefully, not wanting to alert Seamus and Allister of his mischief. It took him a little while, but he did eventually reach the top, now all that he needed to do was get down. He could simply climb down, but that side of the wall didn't have the same number of cracks the other did, and Arthur didn't want to plummet 10 feet. Maybe he could manuver the wind? He shook his head. He didn't have enough practice with that skill yet.

"Arthur?" The brit flinched in shock, looking around in confusion. "Down here, silly." The brit slowly looked down and was met with two warm brown orbs, pale skin, and a swarm of freckles. The woman wore a simple blue summer dress, and her brown hair cascaded down her torso, stopping just short of her hips. She had a slim, lean physique, and soft pink lips, which were smiling at him brightly.

"Maggie?" he asked. Though it hadn't been so long since he had seen her, he still wanted to ask just to make sure.

"...Yes" She answered, confused. "Why are you up there? You had every one of us worried sick and you're just sittng up there like that? Get down." He ordered, and the brit decided to forcibly climb down, with or without cracks in the wall. It was a long arduous task, the brit almost slipping a number of times, but he managed to make it to the ground in once peace. Once he turned around to greet his friend, Maggie was instantly on him, hugging, bouncing. Arthur giggled as she eventually let him free, grabbing his wrists and pulling him towards the fortress. As they walked through the courtyard, Arthur was greeted by a number of enthusiastic ex-British maids and butlers, hearing about his kidnapping and completely delighted for his safe return.

He was eventually told to wait in the main hall until one of them could get John, the harold arriving with the prince. Before the young man could go fetch the old man, Arthur desperately asked him about the whereabouts of his mate. The butler had said he had went out on a ride, and may not be here for a few hours. Arthur visibly deflated, thoroughly disappointed. He was expecting to see Alfred burst through the door and rush over to him, embrace him, and scent him. However, instead the prince used his first hours to relax on a stroll through the forrest. Maggie could see the hurt in the brit's eyes, so she changed the topic.

"I've notice that bite on your neck. So you and Alfred finally mated?" She asked, and the group of nearby women settled down around them, wanting to know all the details. Arthur blushed under the attention.

"Yes, we in an exquisite inn in midtown New York. It was just minutes away from the harbor." He explained. The girls 'oo'd.

"Was he any good?"

"Did it hurt?"

"Oh my god, is it plausible that we may have a mini prince on the way?" One teased.

Arthur was overwhelmed by the questions, before he could even answer one, another two were called out. "Guys, Guys, one at a time." One of the girls repeated herself. "No, it didn't hurt that much." Then another asked another question. "No, I'm not pregnant." he confirmed, and the girls made a disappointed groan, before firing more questions. "No, we had our first time on the steamship." He said softly, his cheeks warming up. "Yes, that time, it did hurt."

"Did you come here alone?" Maggie asked, and the brit shook his head, thinking back to his idiot brothers.

"No, my "brothers" are with me." he made sure to use air quotes in order to keep his cover story consistent.

"Oh, I didn't know you had brothers." Someone said, and Arthur nodded.

"Yea, I wasn't really raised with them, so I hardly know them myself. However, I owe them my life for saving me from that horrid beast." He could see from the look in their eyes that they wanted to know about how he got back to the island. He sighed before continuing. "Alright, Alfred and I were touring through the countryside, and at our last stop before the capital, we went to the town's mayor's office. Alfred and the Mayor knew each other, so when she offered to take me to my room privately, neither Alfred nor I felt any need to be suspicious. On our way, the mayor had to use the bathroom, but when she returned, it was actually an imposter, the roayal sorceror who was ent to get rid of me by the queen." He was interupted by a number of gasps, but once they stteled down, he continued. "I didn't know, however. So she opened this huge black door, and I went inside. It wasn't my bedroom though, it was an office covered in skulls and other ancient relics."

"Really?" Arthur and the group snapped their eyes to an aged man with blond hair and a trimmed beard. The closer he got, the more of his features became apparent. His nose was straight and his eyes were cold. His grey eyes were bright at the same time, and his smile, though warm, had mischievous undertones. As he approached, Maggie nudged him silently, Arthur looking back at her in confusion.

"That is no way to treat your father." She whispered harshly to him. Arthur's eyes snapped back up to the blond man now a mere 10 feet away, still approaching. He must be Arnold. Arthur scrambled to his feet, walking over to the other fellow in a rush. Though Arthur wasn't looking his best, he sure looked better than most days. His white blouse was tucked into his black pants which were tucked into his black boots. Once they were close enough to formally greet each other, Arthur bowed, albeit awkwardly. When he stood back up, Arnold just stared at him unblinkingly. It remained like that for a few moments before the old man slowly raised his hand to cup the brit's face. He slowly tilted the brit's face side to side in order to check for damages. He could here his friend make sounds of adoration, seeing it as an act of affection. Arthur, however, had a sneaking feeling Arnold was just looking to see whther or not his goods were damaged.

"Thank God you are safe and sound." He deadpanned, but there was no real emotion in his voice. The girls made more squealing noises, finding the exchange adorable.

"You too... father." he added awkwardly, and the older offered a devilish smirk.

"Don't be so shy. I had already told your friends all about how you would yell 'daddy' whenever we had been apart for so long." His eyes flashed as Arthur's darkened. The girls laughed, telling the brit to say it. Oh, this wasn't expected.

"Hello... _daddy_." He forced out, a pained smile gracing him lips.


	31. Chapter 31

**2 hours later...**

Arthur smiled warmly as he took another sip of wine from his glass, listening to more of Arnold's story. Apparently, Arnold was quite the worldly man, travelling all over to places like Arabia, China, Korea, France, the Netherlands, Spain, Russia, and Italy. He was fluent in many of those languages, and occasionally, the pair would switch languages randomly, much to the dismay of John. Arthur figured this was great, now having an unsuspicious reason to have learned how to speak so many languages, and therefore confirming his belief that he was indeed omnilingual. Seamus and Allister had come in a little while ago, but Arnold was only really interested in Arthur.

"Then, the guard says, "Hey, you can't say that here." Then I go, "I can say 'Fuck', anywhere I want to." As expected, I was deported, but my armory still stands there today." He sighed, a slight chuckle slipping from his lips. Arthur studied his face, the man having a bizarre resemblance to his father. They didn't look that much alike, but the most random features were similar between the two that it made Arthur feel a little uncomfortable. They had the same long lashes, and lips. Arnold's nose was very straight, making Arthur realize how slightly crooked his father's nose was. They both had the same weird habit of flexing their ears when they sighed. Aside from those random things, the two shared no more physical traits. They were third cousins after all.

" _Why did you go into business again?_ " Arthur asked in Chinese, and Arnold shrugged.

" _I didn't really like the idea of someone else handling my money._ " He responded in Russian. " _I made some factories, produced some clothes at first, but you know, India controlled that market. I moved to weapons, specializing in swords. However, now I'm moving into firearms. I plan to mass produce them in a few months, if all goes well._ " He sighed.

" _You mean, when Alfred gives you whatever he promised you going into this deal._ " He stated in Dutch. It wasn't a question, the older brit noted, smirking.

"Business, I guess." He said in English. Arthur looked towards the door of the main hall, silently checking for Alfred's entrance. He could feel the other's presence, and it was getting closer, but he supposed that the prince wouldn't arrive until a little while later.

" _Why are you mated to the prince? Is it for his money? His power?_ " He asked suddenly, in spanish, and Arthur looked at him in mild shock.

"I love him." He said simply, responding in english. "I love everything about him, and I couldn't care less about his status." He didn't have time or patience for his feelings towards Alfred to be questioned.

"I understand. By the snap in your voice I can tell you get this alot." He rested his cheek on the palm of his hand. "You don't look much like your father." He said suddenly, taking a another sip of his wine. Arthur shrugged.

"I look more like my mother." He confirmed.

"Well, I figured." Arnold sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I've only ever spent time with your father when we were children. Eventually I left the palace to pursue business. I would occasionally write him letters, but I travelled a lot so I would get his replies quite late." Arthur quirked a brow. What if he's lying? Arnold seemed to have read his mind. "What, do you want proof?" Arthur nodded. "Alright, Alright. In one of his letters he mentioned something about a stolen dagger that was mysteriously left at his doorstep. He said he wouldn't let anyone leave and had a knife on him always." Arthur bit his lip, trying to remember something like that happening. The description sounded familiar, but Arthur couldn't pinpoint the event. Suddenly Allister, who was sitting nearby, cleared his throat.

"Dylan took it and returned it a month after he had lost it in the forest. Dad got super paranoid, so we were too scared to tell him." He explained. "Arthur was hardly cognizant at the time, around what? 4 or 5 years old?" Arnold nodded his head, a slight grin on his face.

"Well, I hope that had confirmed my identity." He said cheerfully, and Arthur shrugged, looking around. Seamus and John were currently talking about something, Allister's attention back on the swarm of girls surrounding him. Even Maggie was hitting on him. The brit sighed, what can he do about it, it's not her fault he's attractive. His eyes stole a glance at the door, just in case the prince happened to stroll in right this moment. He once again sulked; when was that bastard coming?

"Give him time."

Arthur turned to see John making his way to the pair, Seamus joining Allister in the pile of females. The Harold took a seat beside Arthur, taking his hand gently. "I can't say this enough but thank goodness you're alright." Arthur nodded, smiling.

"Thank you, it's good to be back." John eyed him strangely before looking over at Arnold, who only smirked in return. Arthur looked past the older man towards Seamus, who was, despite engaging in conversation with the girls, watching Arthur intently from the corner of his eyes. Arthur looked back towards John again, who was now staring at him. "Yes?" He asked slowly. "Is something the matter?" John pursed his lips before speaking.

"Are you returning to the states with us, Arthur?" He asked with a stern voice. The brit quirked his brow. Why was that even a question?

"Of course." He said firmly, picking up his glass of wine. He was no longer in the mood to drink, so he just stared at the blood red liquid and he rolled it around in his cup. "I don't see why that's even up for debate." He added sharply, Arnold whistling. John gave the older blond a look before looking at the younger brit.

"I'm Alfred's guardian, so I need to know in order to best plan out the rest of his days before his coronation. If he's going to be emotionally shattered, I'll need to change course towards the islands so he could debuff." he explained. Arthur narrowed his eyes at the man, not finding this answer satisfactory.

"That hardly answers my question." He made unflinching eye contact with John, who was shocked to say the least.

"It's not that I don't trust you, it's the queen who has doubts. She thinks you're dead, and that Alfred will be devastated because he won't be able to find you. I just want to make sure that if you are planning to leave him, you do so without seeing him, and hide well for a month or so." He advised, and it was now Arthur who was taken aback.

"Excuse me?" He was highly offended. He would never leave his mate. Ever. Even if he would, he would never be so cruel as to not end the relationship properly. "Hide as to be declared dead?" Arthur felt his blood boil, and the sudden urge to curse John came upon him. However his conscious kicked in not a moment later and stopped him, reasoning it out. John shrugged.

"If your leaving him, you might as well not be found." He said, downing a shot of whiskey.

"Well," the brit decided to drop it, this was supposed to be a happy day. "I'm not leaving him." John looked passed him and smiled, the brit unsure of who he was looking at.

"Well, that's good to hear."

Arthur's heart skipped a beat as his glands on the side of his neck flared up. He was so distracted by John's comments that he hadn't noticed the presence of his mate draw nearer and nearer. His eyes watered as he turned around slowly, looking towards the large steel double doors that were being pushed open. The room was silent as they waited for the prince to walk in. It was him, it had to be him. Arthur stood up hesitantly as he saw Alfred step into the room a little shaken. His white blouse was a little dirty, and his black trousers were mud caked. His ocean blue eyes shimmered in the brightly lit hall as he searched for Arthur, who slowly approached him. Like the red sea, the crowd parted, and soon the prince made eye-contact with his beloved omega. Now the hot tears were streaming down the brit's cheeks as he picked up his pace, rushing towards his alpha.

"Alfie!" He sobbed as he slammed into him, the prince staring down at him in awe and disbelief. The brit wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his nose into his chest and taking deep breaths of the other's smell. Alfred's puzzlement ceased suddenly, and he wrapped his arms around the brit's waist, sinking to the floor. Arthur could feel him shaking as they went to their knees. "Alfie" he whispered with a shaky voice, soaking in the soft sobs of his mate. Alfred's face was buried in Arthur's neck, scenting him. They stayed like that a long while, the prince eventually picking up his head, kissing the brit on the forehead while mumbling a soft thanks to God. His eyes were bloodshot, and so Arthur wiped the tears off of his lover's face, voice jagged as he spoke. "I thought you'd stop looking for me by now." He was breathless as the other looked at him with hurt eyes.

"What?" He pulled away, then grabbed the brit by the shoulders. "Of course I'd come looking for you!" He voice was shaky as he breathed in sharply. "You obviously don't understand how much you mean to me" he whispered, looking down. Arthur chuckled softly, swiping his hands away before going in for another embrace. They scented each other as the women in the room "Awwww"d. The couple ignored them though, the brit letting Alfred kiss him wildly all over the face, despite the tears pouring down his cheeks.

"I missed you" the blond whispered before Alfred kissed his lips, the two engaging in a heated kiss. They pulled apart for air a few moments later, the brit repeating himself over and over.

"I love you." The prince was sobbing heavily again, holding onto the brit once again. "I love you so much." Arthur wrapped his hands into his hair, allowing the gentle assault on his body.

"I love you too."

* * *

 **When things got settled...**

Arthur sat awkwardly as he ate dinner, the tension thick enough to slice. The prince was making no effort to conceal his hateful gaze at Allister and Seamus, who were both eating their food silently. The brit and Alfred were holding hands underneath the table, the omega squeezing every now and then. No one had said a word, Alfred himself hadn't even touch his food and it's been over 10 minutes. Arthur sighed. The second the pair had composed themselves, Alfred became extremely aware at the unwelcomed guests and pulled out a sword, threatening to decapitate them. Despite the cries of the women, and the scolding of John, Alfred only stopped his raging once Arthur begged him. The two retired to their room and the brit forced the other to calm down, cuddling with him as a reward. However, now it was dinner time, and Alfred was using all of his strength not to lunge across the table.

"Ahem." Arnold clinked his fork on his wine glass, grabbing the attention of Alfred, John, and the Kirkland brothers. "It's a pleasure that we are all able to enjoy each others' presence." He had that mischievous look in his eyes again. Arthur mentally prepared himself. John cleared his throat, looking at Arnold with curious eyes.

"Sit down, Arnold." He muttered. "This dinner isn't about you." The business man feigned offense before smiling.

"Real men don't eat in silence, Johnny." He chuckled. "Can we please talk about something?" Arthur nodded, looking over to Alfred whose eyes were clouded in silent rage. Arthur sighed silently to himself.

"I'll start."Arthur said, clearing his throat. "As most of you know I was kidnapped." He felt Alfred squeeze his hand, and he smiled softly. "I woke up in a cave, held captive by a beast calling itself the palace sorcerer-"

"What?" John and Alfred asked simultaneously. The the blond eyed them warily.

"Yea, she said she was tasked with protecting the castle" he elaborated. Alfred looked at John, who looked at him in turn. They seemed to have this mental conversation going on, and they each wore a face of realization. "What?" He asked softly, and Alfred looked down, his anger abating. He shook his head wildly.

"What happened next?" Arthur didn't react at first, just staring at his mate. Alfred glanced at him before realizing the omega was staring at him, raising a brow in question.

"I won't continue until you answer." He declared. "Who's the palace sorcerer? It was your mother's pet wasn't it?" He accused, and Alfred opened his mouth to defend himself. However, before he said anything, he closed his mouth, sighing. He nodded in defeat. Arthur's blood boil for the umpteenth time that day, shaking his head in shock. "She... that thing almost killed me." He muttered. Alfred sighed softly. "Your mother ... is such a _bitch_."

The Kirkland brothers snorted, and the older men looked surprise. Alfred didn't look offended, he just lowered his eyes. "The palace sorcerer just makes good luck charms, there's no way she could have-"

"Alfred." Arthur warned, shaking his head, eyes watering. Of course the queen was behind it. He knew the queen was behind it, however hearing it out loud from the American made his scars burn. Alfred nodded.

"My mother must be behind this... yeah..." He looked down to his plate. "You were right, the entire time." He continued, the brit clenching his breath. "She hated you from the beginning, and I'm sorry for being blind to that. I've known her my whole life... I knew she'd hate you... I" His voice cracked, faltering as it got heavy. "I was just being _selfish_ because I _didn't_ want you to be scared away." He whispered. Arthur squeezed his hand, not really holding grudge against the prince.

"I'll just... continue, I guess." He said softly. "She tortured me for days, and she hardly fed me. Then she disappeared for almost a week, leaving me dehydrated and hungry. However," he looked over to his brothers. "My brothers came, and rescued me. Then they fed me, sheltered me, and trained me." He turned to Alfred. "I _owe_ them my life. I would have died without them." Alfred lowered his eyes again, humming.

"I'm grateful." He said finally after a long pause. "Thank you for protecting my mate." Arthur smiled, some progress being made.

"If _we_ don't, who will?" Allister snapped, eye blazing. Arthur was taken aback. Was he fucking serious?! Alfred was second away from... UGH!

" _Allister_!"

"No!" Seamus said, cutting the brit off. "You listen here. I know we said we would behave but... he destroyed England! How the fuck are we supposed to be calm?!"

"He is a failure. You were kidnapped under his watch!" Allister spat, cheeks red, and body trembling. Arthur shook his head.

"I went along with someone I didn't know, it's not his fault." He defended, looking back at his mate. Alfred's expression was blank, but he had this bloodthirsty look in his eyes. "It's not your fault" he repeated, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "It's not-"

The brit was suddenly dragged away from the prince and flung across the room. Arthur landed harshly on his arm looking up in time to see both Seamus and Allister draw their swords. "No!" He screamed, standing up, rushing over to his mate, who was sitting unphased at the head of the table. "No! What're you doing?! Stop!" He fumbled and fell a few feet from Alfred, opting to crawl the rest of the way. He draped himself over the prince, a protective shield. "Leave him alone. We'll go." he offered. "We can leave the island."

"You're not leaving-"

"Yes he is." Alfred said sternly, gently moving his brit in order to stand up. "He's coming with me." He walked over to the rebel leaders, red flags blaring in the brit's head.

"Alfred!" The other paid no mind, continuing to walk over to them.

"I'm not drunk this time, you cowardly scum. I don't care what kinds of magic you have, I'll fucking end you." He proclaimed with a smirk, and Arthur rushed in between them before Alfred got close. The smaller cupped his cheeks, forcing the other to look him in the eyes.

"What are you doing? Please, please, don't do this! Please!" He begged, but the prince ignored his words, kissing him briefly on the forehead. "A-alfred... He started again, turning to look behind him, glaring at his idiot brothers. "Stop it, what the hell?!" He scolded. "Are you trying to burn bridges. If you do anything to Alfred, consider your whole cause lost because every one of his allies will come and invade, and this island will never have peace." He warned, praying common sense will trigger their reasoning skills. "We've all lost people we cared about, let's not lose any more."

Allister and Seamus growled at him, and Alfred growled loudly in his defense. Oh god. The brit shoot John a pleading look, but the old man was just polishing the prince's sword for him. What...? Arnold continued to eat his food, a hint of horror in his eyes. Were they really gonna fight? Alfred gripped Arthur by the waist and moved him to the side, reaching his hand out for his sword. John dutifully handed it to him, an eager look in his eyes.

"Outside, then?" Alfred asked, the two brit gone in a blink of an eye, teleporting outside. The prince wasn't phased as he left the room, Arthur watching the scene play out. He walked closely behind his mate, still begging him to be the better person. The alpha ignored him, only humming in response.

"Alfred, stop this isn't a humming matter!" Arthur's voice cracked. "You saw what happened to Elizabeta. To that bartender. You won't win if-"

"I have something up my sleeve." He interrupted, turning around to face the brit. The two held intense eye-contact until the prince kissed him once more on the lips, the brit couldn't help feeling that it was the last time. "Nothing you say will stop me. I'll be fine." Arthur's eyes watered as he shook his head. "Go to our room, and stay their for a bit, it won't last long." He advised, and Arthur looked at him in shock.

"Please, if you really love me you'll negotiate." He sputtered out, and the prince smiled.

"I'm only doing this because I love you." He pulled away and continued on his way to his battle, the brit's legs suddenly jelly. He fell to the floor, staring at the back of his mate's head until he walked out of view, letting the tears slide down his cheeks. He wasn't going to let them hurt his mate. He slowly rose to his feet. He's not as skilled as his brothers, but Dylan had taught him enough offensive magic to do some damage. He slowly walked after the prince, using the back of his head as a sort of gps to follow his lover. Eventually the warm breeze of the outside blew through his hair, the prince and his brother squaring off in the courtyard. The maids and butlers stayed inside, watching from their windows, terrified.

The red head raised his sword high as he charged at Alfred, the prince blocking the blow easily. Seamus began to charge forward, planning on making the battle 2 vs 1. Arthur raised his hands towards a nearby rock, raising it and swiftly throwing at his brother. The older noticed the rock in time to dodge it barely, clenching his jaw. "I'm warning you." He said hoarsely, and Arthur lurched another rock at him. Seamus simply side stepped it, changing coarse and charging towards the brit, sword in hand. Arthur quickly pulled his dagger out of his boot, ready to use it as defense, unsure how to use it otherwise. Seamus was quickly upon him, swing his blade down towards his head; the omega raised his dagger in time to deflect it, kicking the other in the stomach. He stumbled back, but didn't lose his footing, Arthur sending more rocks his brother's way. He gave a quick glance towards Alfred, who seemed to be faring better than Allister, who was reduced to blocking.

Arthur was caught off guard when a small pocket knife drilled its way into his shoulder. He gave a short cry as he fell, Seamus turning the knife as he growled, pinning the omega. Seamus slammed the palms of his hands across the brit's face, disorienting him. Arthur thrashed a little, covering his face as he willed another stone to hit Seamus. This time it connected firmly with his head, giving him an opening to crawl away. As he tried to stand, he felt something grip his ankle, flinging him towards the center of the courtyard. He had, once again, landed poorly on his arm, the arm of the shoulder that was stabbed. He pitched himself up, looking frantically for Seamus. He turned around briefly to see Alfred and Allister still fighting, no sign of the other blond rebel. Arthur patted his boots, his dagger was gone, therefore leaving him defenseless.

Oh God, help me! He waited in horror for the other to appear, turning in circles, looking. A bad feeling in his stomach went off, the brit backing away from the center of the courtyard in favor of the treeline. There he placed his hand on the trunk of the tree, breathing in deeply, ignoring the aching pain in his arm. Where did he go?

'He's too your left. On the count of three, duck.' The voice sounded feminine and it vibrated through his skull as it continued to count down. When the voice finally reached zero, the brit ducked as he was instructed to do so, an arrow swooping and embedding itself into the tree trunk. Arthur yelped, that arrow could have very well killed him. 'There's no time, get up and run deeper into the forest. You need to separate the rebels.' the voice advised, and Arthur crawled a bit before standing up, sprinting into the forest.

"But what if he doesn't follow?" he asked. Before the voice could respond, another arrow flew a mere 3 inches past his face, landing in some tree roots. "Holy Fuck" he panted as he ran, being careful as to jump over roots and duck under low hanging branches, avoiding brambles. His thighs were burning yet he only seemed to get faster as time went on.

'Hide.' the voice said suddenly, the brit faltering.

"What?"

'Hide in the bushes.'

"He'll find me." The brit hissed, practically diving into the bushes. He reset the bush so it would cover him fairly well. He sat there, hand over his mouth, waiting for his attacker to make himself known. He sat for what felt like hours before Seamus came into view a broad smile on his face. He stopped, stood straight and placed his hands on his hips, breathing in the air. The brit's heart was beating rapidly, as he watched the sanity leave his brother's eyes. He seemed to enjoy this; the chase. The brit blinked the tears forming in his eyes away, opening them only to see the older nowhere in sight.

'You've been discovered, run.'

Arthur felt his heart drop into his stomach as he looked around in the eerie silence. He crawled out of the bush and crawled away just in time for the plant to catch fire, exploding. Arthur stumbled backwards until he found his sense again, sprinting towards the center of the forest. "Where do I go? How do I get there?" He panted, the sound of the whistle of arrows blowing past his ears shaking him to his core. His bangs blinded him, no longer able to see his path. The voice didn't answer him, Arthur running around underneath the shaded canopy of leaves. He was suddenly aware of a light in front of him; was it a clearing? He ran towards that light, a possible place to confront his brother.

Only once the trees were no longer towering over the omega did he push his hair out of the way. For one, he wasn't in a clearing, he was on a cliff. This is bad... He turned around, ready run back into the forest when an arrow struck his other shoulder, causing the brit to fall backwards in shock. He scooted away from the treeline, towards the edge of the cliff, making sure to leave more than enough distance between the edge and himself. Seamus emerged from the forest with floating arrows around him, not a bow in sight. Ahh, so he was doing the same thing Arthur was, just with arrows instead of rocks.

Seamus had a crazed look in his eyes walking threatening over to the brit. Arthur couldn't help but think back to earlier in the day, the older telling him to not climb the wall because he thought it was dangerous. He chuckled at the irony of it all, ignoring the pain in his shoulders.

"I know you're probably confused." Seamus said suddenly, folding his arms. His eyes were no longer crazed, and his voice was as monotone as ever. "But, ladie... we're going to have to kill ya." There was an awkward silence before Arthur began to scream for help, simultaneously throwing anything light enough with his magic. Seamus deflected them, using his leg to deliver one fell swoop across the other's face in order to silence him. "Shut it. Let me explain."

Arthur shook his head, backing away, the pocket knife the other had used earlier still in his hand. "Get away!" He screamed as he continued to back up. They were going to kill him. They were probably planning on it the whole time. They had only known him for a month really, he's not the most valuable person to the Kirkland brothers. If anything, he's a nuisance. Arthur refused to stay, and parliament did promise to restore the crown once all the surviving siblings were reunited. Arthur won't be a problem if he's dead. The brit felt as if he was about to be sick. To think he felt at home with these psychopaths! That they spent nights drinking together, laughing together like a family.

"Arthur, watch-"

"Shut up, you bastard! You were gonna do this from the start! The second you realized I wouldn't stay and help get you to the throne you were began to plot. Very elaborate, I'd say, you sick fucks-"

The sound of metal against rock interrupted the brit. Seamus dropped the knife and slowly approached the brit, eyes wide. "Arthur, what are you-"

"Oh, so you're gonna kill me without a weapon!? How manly, you piece of-" the brit stopped as Seamus jogged over, the brit scooting away faster and quicker, the fear melting away all sense of scenery and direction. All he saw were Seamus's piercing eyes.

"I'm not gonna-"

"Liar! Get away!" He yelled as he flung one last rock, the blow a direct hit. Seamus fell, however not before he grabbed onto the brit's ankle, pulling him closer. The omega flailed around in an attempt to free his legs, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Alfred! Alfred!" He used his other foot to kick at Seamus, who was slowly regaining his composure. With one last kick, Seamus let go, the omega bouncing a few feet back. As he tried to pick himself up, he realized just how close to the edge he had gotten. He was a mere half a foot away from the edge, thank goodness he didn't go any farther.

'Now Jump.' the voice returned, and Arthur gasped.

"Excuse me?" He looked around and saw that Seamus was still recuperating, who else could it be? There was suddenly a loud hissing noise coming from the treeline, both blonds directing their attention to it. "What-"

"Didn't I say jump." Hised a terribly familiar voice, Arthur's blood stilling in his veins. No, it can't be. "Bad pet you are, not staying where I left you." The brit felt his eyes water, the half snake half human hybrid beast walked from underneath the shade of the tree. Seamus gasped, the sorcerer simply snapping and sending the blond flying into the forest. Arthur was paralyzed in fear. The beast was back, what should he do? Before he could even move a muscle, the abomination was upon him, seizing him by his neck and raising him into the air. Arthur thrashed, kicking wildly, the beast not even flinching. She stuck her hand out of the edge, slowly loosening her grip on the brit.

Arthur screamed, unsure and confused as to why what was supposed to be the happiest day in his life as of yet turned into the most miserable. Arthur clung to her arm, glancing down only a bit at what appeared to be about a 60 feet drop to a bed of jagged rocks. There was no surviving that, he was a deadman. He knew no amount of begging would save him, only a silent prayer passing his lips as the woman let go, the brit losing his grip on her sleeve. He could see her figure get smaller and smaller as he plummeted, his stark screams echoing alongside her shrill laughter. He reached for everything and nothing, the tears forming tiny droplets before his eyes as he dropped.

He was expecting instant death, he was praying for instant death, however, like everything in his life, this wish wasn't granted. He could feel the jagged spike impale his stomach, his organs torn and displaced. The impact crushed his lungs, so he could no longer breathe, gasping for air but being unable to take any in. He felt his limbs twitched, and despite cracking his skull at an incredible mileage, he was still painfully conscious, aware of every droplet of blood spraying from his orifices. He blinked once or twice, a thin layer of blood blurring his vision, giving everything a red tint.

Why was he still alive? Was this supposed to be his final chance to reflect on his painfully short life? Was he supposed to think about his mate? He didn't want to think about anything, the pain becoming impossibly bad. He closed his eyes, perhaps like sleeping, pretending to be dead will somehow bring death a little closer.

"Arthur!" He heard someone yell, but it was too far, he couldn't tell who it was. "Arthur! Arthur!" It continued to call, getting closer. "Arthur! Ar-Oh MY GOD! Oh my god! Arthur!" Arthur turned his eyes to the voice, finally recognizing it to belong to Seamus. The older blonde ran his hands over Arthur's cheek softly, eyes watering. Arthur glared at him, however, he couldn't speak, his lungs not allowing him. "Arthur, I'm gonna get you out." he declared, raising his arm and swiping it across the two foot spikey rock penetrating Arthur, breaking the tip. Arthur shook his head in protest. He wanted to tell the other to put him out of his misery, but again he couldn't speak.


	32. Chapter 32

**Alfred's POV...**

 **1 day later...**

He swore he was going to be sick again, dry heaving over his bucket. He refused to eat, drink, even leave the room, watching over his torn up omega. The presence of his mate was still strong, despite the gaping hole in abdomen. Arthur was going to be okay, his brothers saying that in addition to his natural healing prowess the medical herbs they gave him should have him up in no time. Nevertheless, his bloodshot eyes, his unmoving chest and bleeding nose was a sickening sight, too morbid for the prince's weak heart to handle.

According to Seamus, the royal sorcerer had come out of nowhere as Seamus struggled to get Arthur away from the edge. He said he was flung into the forest, and when he had returned, Arthur was impaled by a 2 foot spike, still conscious and suffering. Even now, Arthur was awake, eyes glazed over as he stared at nothing. He must have been in an unimaginable amount of pain, Alfred trying to compose himself. The prince hesitantly stroked the brit's face, the omega not responding. "I love you." He whispered softly, leaning forward to move the bangs off of his face.

They were currently in their room, Seamus insisting that Arthur be cared for in there. Alfred was a little grateful for the brothers, but then again, they were the reason for all this. If they hadn't challenged him, Arthur wouldn't have been chased through the forest and attacked by the beast. Furthermore, Seamus's story didn't explain the stab wounds on Arthur's shoulders. Alfred didn't trust him, and if he read the redhead's face right, he wasn't very convinced either. The prince pulled the blanket up a little higher, the fabric laying around his neck.

"You can probably hear me." Alfred started, getting no response. "You're probably scared, and so am I... but your brothers said you should be okay." He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I can only imagine the pain you're in, and I'm sorry that, once again, I've failed to keep you safe." He sighed. "Seamus said that your wounds were the result of the royal sorcerer, but... I don't really believe him. You ended up on the cliff for a reason, you wouldn't have run from him if you didn't think he was safe to be around. Was he... was he the one who pushed you? There's no evidence to support that he did, but there's no evidence to support what he said either. Your shoulders were stabbed a number of times, but by a smooth sharp object. Your stomach wound has this torn, random pattern whereas your shoulder wounds are clean slits. Sure the sorcerer could have stabbed you and then threw you over the cliff, but for some reason I doubt that."

Alfred was interrupted by a knock on the door, the Kirkland who goes by Allister walking in. The prince stared him down as he approached the pair, a wooden bowl in his hand. He looked over at the clock, shocked to see that it was already midnight. "I need to clean his wound." He deadpanned, setting the bowl down. Alfred nodded, standing up to give the other his seat. "You've been here for the last 17 hours." He spoke as he pulled down the blanket, removing the shoulder bandages first. Alfred sighed.

"I'd rather he not be alone." He sighed. Allister hummed.

"I guess..." He began to dab the wounds, Alfred watching his expression intently. He can't really believe he got all the wounds from the fall, right? Seamus obviously did something to him. Allister suddenly glared at him, stopping what he was doing. "Why are you staring at me?" Alfred scoffed.

"You're touching my unconscious mate, why wouldn't I watch you." He snapped, the redhead frowning. The prince wouldn't be surprised if the thought had crossed his mind. He seemed smart enough to doubt the little story the other had said, but then again, they're brothers, closer to each other than they are to Arthur.

"What does that have to do with anything?" He growled, wrapping the shoulder up.

"Excuse me?"

Allister sighed hesitantly, shaking his head. "Forget it... I just need to clean his stomach wound and he's all yours." Alfred hummed. Oh, he's his now that he can't speak or move, but when he's healthy, Arthur doesn't have a right enough mind to pick his mate. Allister stilled for a bit, coughing. "I don't know what happened to Arthur." he said suddenly. "We have no way of knowing without him waking up, so if you have your little theories you want to fact check later, do so. But until then, keep them to yourself."

Alfred scoffed. "I don't recall telling you any of my conspiracy theories."

"It doesn't matter." He stood up suddenly. "I'm done. The wound is no longer open. There's just a scab that'll heal. His lungs should take a little longer to heal, but he should come to a full recovery in 4 days or so." He walked away, picking up the bowl leaving the room.

"Thank you." Alfred scoffed. He sat down on the chair, pulling the blanket up again. "Your brother's a dweep."

* * *

 **2 days later...**

Alfred yawned as he closed his eyes, resting his hand lightly on his mate's chest. His lungs were working like normal, the rise and fall hypnotising as he tried to get some sleep. The brit's face was buried in his neck, the prince at first shocked when he felt the other move. However, he forced himself to relax seeing that moving meant progress. The wound on the stomach was healed for the most part, just some discoloration. However, what really got his attention was the hand-sized burn shaped as a cross on his stomach. Of course Alfred was livid as he left the room for the first time in days, hunting the blonde Kirkland down. He had accused him of torture and attempted murder until Allister explained to him that the burn marks were due to his time in the cave, not because of them. Though this encounter happened a day ago, Alfred still didn't believe him, and just the thought of them hurting Arthur made his blood boil.

His quiet rage was interrupted by a soft groan, which inclined the prince to light a candle. Once lit, he turned to face his omega, who was still a deathly pale. However, it seems his little nap was over because his eyes were once again open, searching the room silently. Alfred caressed his cheek softly before sitting up, figuring that he had slept enough anyway. For the last 3 days or so, the brit, despite needing all the rest he could get, would only take brief infrequent naps, leaving Alfred at most 5 hours of sleep. He didn't want to be asleep while the other was awake, in case he needed something. The brit was somehow recovering, moving, breathing and drinking like normal. He just hadn't spoken yet, but he had tried; it just came out as nonsense.

The omega groaned again, rolling over to his side, back towards the wall. Alfred placed a soft kiss on his lips, not surprised when he felt no pressure in return. He yawned loudly, stretching. He was really counting on the brit sleeping for a few more hours. He sighed, albeit a little disappointed. "You have bad timing, babe." he chuckled, looking down into the other's bloodshot eyes. Under the warm glow of the candle, Arthur looked disturbing. Yes, he was pale, but that was hardly the reason why. Though Alfred knew the brit was looking at him, he only knew could he could sort of feel the gaze. However, Arthur's eyes itself were hollow and it was hard to tell what he was actually looking at because of how dull his eyes were. Not to mention the contrast between green and red was sharp, and paired with everything else it was just creepy.

"Still, you're gorgeous." He thought outloud. "Even with those crosses on you. I'm sorry you had to go through that. I wish I could have been there with you." He was rambling, but he was extremely happy. "I love you, so much. Sometimes I think..." He stopped himself. "Nevermind." He sighed, taking out some papers from underneath his pillow. He began to read again, but he couldn't concentrate. "Actually... I know you're too good for me, and that you deserve better, and sometimes I think you life would have been 100 times better without me. Exponentially. So I want to make you an offer..." He trailed off as the brit suddenly sat up, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Alfred could only stare, unsure of what to do. "Umm? You okay-"

"What's your offer?" he muttered, voice weak. The prince flinched, the brit was actually talking. He couldn't see his face, but he figured the brit wanted it that way.

"Um... yes, of course. If you want to leave me, and pursue the british crown, I'll endorse you to the rest of europe." His voice was shallow, feeling a little unsafe. He felt his heart race as the brit slowly turned his head to face him. Holy fuck. He was half expecting to see a grotesque face, however, he was just met with the wet, pained eyes of his lover, and trembling lips. Guilt washed over him as he crawled over to his lover, who had began to sob. Arthur scooted away from the other, rolling over to his side so that he back was facing the American. "Arthur." He pressed his chest against his back, pulling some soft strands back behind the omega's ears. "Arthur, what's wrong?" The smaller shook wildly as he cried, mumbling in another language. "What?" Alfred climbed over the brit so he didn't have to strain himself. Once they were face to face, the brit spoke.

"W-why does ev-everyone think I'm g-going to leave you?" He rubbed at his tears, and Alfred shook his head, the other completely misunderstanding.

"No, no, no. We just want to make sure you're happy. We want to give you a chance to back out." His soft voice did nothing to soothe his lover, in fact the brit began to cry harder. Alfred tried to hush him, forcing himself not to feel annoyed. However, after 3 minutes of continuous crying, he had lost his patience. "Arthur, hush!" he snapped, the other flinching as he quieted down. The prince instantly felt bad, but the brit began to wrap his arms around his neck. Alfred hummed; so he likes aggressive. "I said I love, got that. I want nothing more than your happiness, and if I don't make you happy, I want to know." His voice was commanding, and he could feel the other shake under his authority. "I said I want to know." he repeated himself through clenched teeth. The brit gasped lightly.

"I love you." He said meekly under the other's watchful eyes. "Which is why I respectfully decline your offer." Alfred smiled, pressing his lips softly against the other, whose lips didn't move.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked, mildly offended. Arthur shook his head.

"I wanna brush my teeth before we get into that." He explained, and the prince nodded.

"Can you move?" He asked, standing up, ready to be used as a crutch to help him.

"No. But can you get me some water?" Alfred nodded obediently, leaving the room to retrieve some water. When he had arrived, Arthur was on the lying on the bed again, the blankets pulled over his head. Alfred walked over to him with the glass of water in his hand. He hummed in order to get the other's attention, but there was no response.

"Artie?" He placed a hand on the other's shoulder, feeling the other trembling. He tugged the blanket off of his face, ignoring the sound of shattering glass as he dropped his cup. For the first time in Alfred's life, he was truly petrified. "Artie?" he rushed to his side, lifting the spasming figure. He was foaming from his mouth, and his eyes were rolled to the back of his head. "Guards! Guards! Guards!" he screamed, flipping Arthur onto his stomach. "Guards!"

* * *

 **1 hour later...**

Alfred was slowly rocking back and forth, ignoring the worried looks of John, Arnold and Allister. The redhead had called it a fit, a seizure due to overexertion. He was stabilized, but none of them knew for how long. The brit's presence had weakened at the back of the prince's head, an unfortunate warning sign. Oh God, he isn't gonna die, is he? He was fine a moment before, he even asked for water, and he had even told him that he loved him. Alfred pulled at his hair, blinking away the tears. Why does this keep happening? What does the world have against Arthur?

"If you stop thinking about it, this process will be much easier." Allister advised, placing his palm on his brother's forehead. "He's not dying-"

"Excuse me?! You didn't walk in one him fucking tweaking with his eyes looking at the back of his head! You said he'd be better in a few days! This isn't fucking better you stupid piece of shit!" He stood up suddenly, the trio taking a step back. "What were you giving him?!" He demanded. "What fucking herbs were you giving him?! You're fucking killing him yourself, you sick-"

"Alfred!" John yelled, the group completely shocked at his irrationality. "Alfred-"

"Shut the FUCK UP! YOU HAVE NO fucking CLUE what's going on!" he barked, glaring at the harold, Arnold taking a step behind in order to escape rage. The prince turned his heated gaze back at the redhead, who had his hands up in defense. "What's happening to him? And tell me the fucking truth!" Allister stared at him blankly for a moment. Alfred's throat began to vibrate as he practically roared, taking another threatening threat forward. The redhead jumped back, nodding rapidly. Alfred turned to the older men. "Get the hell out! Now!" The pair scrambled away without resistance. Alfred dropped to his knees, suddenly exhausted. "oh fuck." He whispered. Allister cleared his throat.

"I couldn't tell earlier, but I'm certain that he's actually in a middle of his transition." Alfred shot him a confused look, the redhead elaborating. "Witches go through a transition to their full magical capacity. It usually happens a lot earlier, but I guess this is another area where he was just a late bloomer." Alfred nodded. So this was normal? "No, it's not normal. Usually it's not this dragged out, but considering he was impaled and almost died, the transition is slower and more laborious on his body." Alfred narrowed his eyes at the redhead.

"Okay." he mumbled. Something about him wasn't sitting right. Why was he so compliant? Why was he... he stood up again, energy suddenly returning. "Where's the other one?!" Allister looked confused. "Where the hell is the blond?!" Allister blinked wildly.

"Seamus? I-I sent him home. I don't know what this is-"

"You're lying." Alfred said softly. "Seamus is still here. He's looking for something, or he's here for someone." he muttered. Allister shook his head, but Alfred rolled his eyes. "Cut the crap, you know you aren't scared! You didn't come here to deliver Arthur, what're you really here for?" Allister backed away. "Who are you here for? You could have killed me in the courtyard, just as Seamus could have killed Arthur in the forest. Why are you dragging this out? What are you stalling for?" He approached the redhead. "You couldn't care less about Arthur, what do you want?"

Allister's shocked face quickly contorted to that of mild surprise and amusement, before laughing maniacally. "You're much smarter than you look; a hell of a lot smarter than I thought you'd be." he growled. Alfred gasped; he was actually right?

"You were behind all of this?" he needed confirmation. The redhead shrugged. "What do you want?"

"Your signature."

* * *

 **Alfred's POV...**

 **The next morning..**.

He knew he was a coward for handling it the way he is, but he didn't want to be there when Arthur learned the truth. Alfred, Arnold and John ate breakfast quietly, the other two learning of the truth earlier that morning. Every one of of them was sick to their stomach, unsure how to move on from this point. On the bright side, it wasn't the quirky palace sorcerer Alfred knew and loved who was behind this. Instead it was... He didn't even want to think of it to be honest, he had Allister and Seamus write out their crimes in a letter they were to leave on the foot of Arthur's bed. Alfred could only imagine his devastation.

Alfred had a feeling the other was awake, but he couldn't detect a change in mood, so perhaps he just hadn't found the letter. Suddenly a sharp pain coursed through the prince, causing him to sink into his chair in shock. Nope, he took it back, the brit was awake. "I need to go comfort him." He said suddenly, standing up shakily, walking as fast as he can without losing balance. He left the room and rushed down the hall, already hearing Arthur's cries of anguish. Alfred ignored the concerned glances of the people in the halls as he grabbed the door handle to their chamber, swearing as he found it locked. "Arthur! Arthur!" he shoved the door, trying to force it open. "Arthur open the door!"

"NOoOOOOooo! Go AwAy! Go awaaay~!" He sobbed, voice hoarse. "I-I-I-I..." his voice cracked. "I-i want to be alone." He begged, and Alfred, though his heart broke, agreed.

"Okay."

~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~

Alfred drank some tea as Arnold kept him company. The older was staring at the side of his face, wanting to know the prince's opinion on everything no doubt. Alfred glared at him as an answer to his unvoiced request. Arnold pouted.

"You have to admit, the plan was very elaborate." He said gruffly. The American hummed. "I mean," he continued, "To disguise yourself as a mayor, then as a snake-monster and kidnap and torture your brother just to rescue him as your normal self in order to gain his trust is just insane. And to use him as a way to get into a close enough proximity to steal the prince's signature in order to remove the rest of U.S troops from England is just crazier." he summed up the whole ordeal pretty well.

Dylan disguised himself as mayor Deen, and then that monster. He took Arthur to England, tortured him nonstop for days until the Kirkland brothers came to rescue him, the brit being so broken that he would allow anyone to help. For a month they made him feel at home, like he was loved and wanted, however, they were just using him as leverage. Originally they were going to demand the signature as ransom in return for Arthur, but they eventually decided on putting a slow acting curse that was going to slowly incapacitate him, so he'd be easier to kill. They hardly knew Arthur, they weren't going to give him claim to the throne. By the time Alfred arrived, all Arthur needed was a few triggers to send him spiralling into a blackhole of misfortune. They stressed him out about staying, then Dylan, under the guise of a helpful voice, drew Arthur to the cliff, eventually becoming the beast and throwing him off the cliff.

However, Dylan wasn't aware of the last minute changes to the plan, realizing that if they killed Arthur too early, they wouldn't get the signature. However, Arthur was already plummeting to his death, and the pair was sure he was going to die. However, his powers kicked in just in time, saving his life and sending him into transition. While they treated Arthur's wounds, the herbs they used were known to slow down magical processes, hindering Arthur's recovery. Arthur's seizure was his body's attempt at removing the toxins. In return for the signature, they would remove the curse and all of it's properties. So Alfred signed it, under one condition: They never contact Arthur again. They agreed, promising they'll contact him directly from now on.

"They're awful people." He spat, and Arnold shrugged.

"I've known good people who've done worse things." he sighed. Alfred eyed him, curious. "I don't want to delve into anyone's dirty laundry." He said. Alfred shrugged understanding. "But if you insist your highness-"

"I'm not-"

"It all started about 20 years ago." he started, and the prince rolled his eyes.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

 **That night...**

Alfred hesitantly pushed the door, pleased to see that it was unlocked. He was even more pleased to see the room spotless, and the brit safely tucked in bed with a book in his hands. He walked in and closed the door behind him, not wanting to make eye contact just yet. He locked it shut and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When he had come out, Arthur was still in the same spot, still reading. This is great.

"Are you coming to bed soon?" Arthur asked, and the American grimaced. His voice... it was so raw.

"Do you want me to get you some tea?" He offered as he changed into his nightwear. The brit shrugged, not looking up from his book. "I'll get you some tea." he decided, opening the door and calling over the closest person. "Hey, can we have a few glasses of tea? Thank you." He closed the door softly, turning in time to see the brit set down the book and rub his eyes. "Are you okay?" Arthur shrugged.

"No, but I'm as close to okay as I could be for a while." He said snarkily. There was an awkward pause. "What? No hum?" he said, getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom. While he was in there, the tea had arrived, and Alfred had set it on the table, pouring the cups himself. Arthur exited the bathroom completely naked, pulling on one of Alfred's shirts. But before that, Alfred finally got a good look at all the crosses littering the brit's body, counting seven. The brit could feel his eyes as he snuggled into the shirt. It happened to be Alfred's favorite daytime shirt, and the prince felt his eye twitch, however, Arthur's in a state of emotional distress, so he didn't say anything. "Ooo, tea." he grabbed a cup and sipped it. "It's good."

"Yeah?... You okay?" Alfred asked awkwardly, having no other means to actually bring up the conversation. Arthur shrugged.

"It hurts, thinking about it. I mean, but what did I expect; they don't know me, and they don't care about me. All the laughs were fake, the drinking games were fake, the sandwich making competitions were fake; they were all fake." he spoke slowly. "It was all a scheme." He smiled bitterly. "I wish nothing but the worst for them." Alfred sighed; at least they were on the same page.

"I'm sorry for everything that has happened." Alfred said weakly, and Arthur nodded his head.

"It wasn't your fault." he said softly. "And it wasn't your mother's fault. I'm sorry for accusing her, again." He offered, and the prince waved it off.

"No need, I believed she did it too, for a time." He stood up and yawned. "Just focus on your tea." He advised, heading towards the bed, sleepy. "Come to bed when you are ready."

"Okay." the brit said softly, downing his glass of tea and pouring himself another one. "Sweet dreams."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

 **4 hours later...**

Alfred woke up at the sound of something rattling. He felt around for Arthur, who was safely tucked into his side. Then what the hell was making that noise? He lit the candle and looked around, not noticing anything at first; the windows were even closed. For a second he thought he was just imagining it until he heard the sound of stomping hooves outside his bedroom door. They sounded heavier than the average horse's step, and he couldn't hear any neighing or anything of the sort. Instead he heard a loud growl as the door ripped open, the brit jumping awake, looking around in shock, then horror, and then proceeding to scream.

Alfred reached underneath the mattress for his sword, grabbing the hilt, and swinging it out. He leaped out of bed and stood at the foot of it, looking the creature straight in the eye. It was essentially a minotaur: a half bull half human hybrid. It was around 14 feet tall, and it had an axe about the size of Alfred slung over his shoulder. The American used most of his strength to stop his knees from buckling, Arthur levitating a vase, poised to throw it at the beast. The minotaur only stared at them with unblinking black eyes.

"I come in peace."

It spoke. And it came in peace. Alfred sighed in relief, Arthur still holding his vase up in fear. "Just because he says he comes in peace, doesn't mean he actually comes in peace!" He spat, and Alfred regained his composure.

"But I do come in peace." He said. "And I come with a message from the Order." What?

"Who?" Arthur asked, putting down the vase. The minotaur took out a letter and placed it on the table next to the empty tea cups.

"I must leave, more messages to deliver." he said abruptly, and he walked out of the room, Alfred and Arthur staring after in him in shock. Alfred retrieved the letter and handed it to Arthur. While Arthur opened it, the prince scooped him up into his arms and walked out of the room, going to the nearest empty guest room. The brit didn't seem to mind being carried, reading over the letter over and over. The American actually didn't want to know what it said, just wanting a safe place to spend the night. He eventually found an empty room and settled Arthur down there, leaving briefly to retrieve his sword. He'll probably need it.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

"So, this is just a congratulatory letter for your transition?" Alfred asked, and the brit nodded.

"I believe so." He muttered.

"Well that's nice." Alfred said, yawning. Arthur shrugged.

"They could have sent a less destructive messenger." He pointed out. "But I guess it's sweet." He flopped down on the bed, tucking himself into Alfred. "How are you still tired after all this?" The omega whispered, kissing the other's collar bone. "You'd think after a mythical creature bursted into your bedroom that you'd be too paranoid to do sleep." Alfred hummed, allowing the kisses to continue as he dozed off.

"I dunno, I'm just sleepy." He muttered. Arthur hummed back, sitting up in order to blow out the candle. Once he had, he tucked himself back into his mate and began to draw tiny crosses on his chest. Alfred slowly opened his eyes; not recalling the other to be religious. He made a grab for Arthur's hand, startling the smaller, but he didn't pull away. "Is there anything you want to say?" Alfred asked, masking his annoyance well. Arthur shook his head. "Is there anything you want to do? Eat? Drink?" He asked, and Arthur sat up, relighting the candle. He turned slowly to his mate, eyes shimmering in confusion.

"Are you getting at something?" he asked quickly. "Because if you are, ask it outright, I'm tired of the mind games." he deadpanned, crossing his legs. As he did so, his shirt rode up and the prince could see his thighs. Alfred's eyes lapped up the milky smooth complexion of the skin, taking note of the brand mark. Despite the blemish, the skin still looked tantalizing. He licked his lips.

"Do you wanna talk about your feelings?" he asked softly, and Arthur narrowed his eyes at him.

"No."

"Are you sure?" He asked, sitting up and leaning his back against the headboard. Arthur nodded. "Any concerns, doubts etc?" The brit groaned.

"No." he spat. "I'm fine, I mean it. Now go to sleep, you have a busy day tomorrow." He ordered, blowing out the candle and flopping onto the bed again, Alfred wiggling in beside him. The American took the liberty to bury his nose in the other's hair, hand caressing his thigh. Arthur allowed it, placing an arm around Alfred's waist, and burying his nose in the other's neck, close to his gland. The prince growled lightly, his hand traveling up the other's shirt, rubbing his side. The brit gasped as the cold hand travelled over his abdomen, brushing another of his scars. The prince kept touching the tender skin, using his thigh to touch the scars in between the other's legs. The omega began to place soft kisses on his neck, occasionally biting softly.

Alfred grew impatient, so he hooked a hand underneath Arthur and pulled him on top of himself, simultaneously sitting up. Arthur's face remained buried in his neck, the prince groaning as he relit the candle. He looked down to see that the smaller was a bright red, body shaking a little, hands clinging to his shirt. The American used a finger to hook the omega's chin, making him look up at the other. His green orbs were blown out, his wild hair sticking out everywhere. His soft pink lips looked moist, inclining the prince to press it against his. The kiss started off gentle, but before long, The brit opened his mouth, giving the prince further access.

The prince grabbed the end of Arthur's shirt and tugged over his head, momentarily breaking the kiss. He removed his own shirt and boxers as Arthur watched him, the omega completely naked. The brit straddled him once more, lips connecting in a heated kiss. Alfred rubbed the brit's body all over, hands finally settling on his bottom cheeks, slapping and then massaging them. The brit whimpered into the kiss, pulling away with a moan. The prince quickly forced a pink bud into his mouth, biting down softly at the sound of Arthur's moan. The prince would spend thirty seconds on each nipple before switching to the other one, despite the lewd pleads from Arthur.

The brit's member was leaking already, the prince having a strong urge to spoil the other. He wrapped his strong hand around the muscle and began to pump, stroking him softly. The contact obviously caught the other off guard, gasping and moaning as he tried to move away. The American secured him in place by wrapping his free arm around his waist, pulling him in. The brit thrashed around a bit before he accepted his fate, allowing his body to be ravished. The prince continued to pump him, smirking at the wild look in the other's eyes as he finished all over him. Arthur panted as the prince flipped them over so that Arthur was now on his back.

The prince wanted to make sure the other knew the knew scars did nothing to change how attractive he was. He lifted the brit's left leg and began to kiss the cross on his calf. The brit's face was red again, hands in his own hair as he watched the prince lick his calf. Alfred switched to the next one, kissing the scar passionately. After a few more minutes of appreciation, he moved down to the crosses on his inner thighs. His tongue lapped over the blemish on his left thigh, kissing and sucking it. He could feel Arthur shake as he moved to the next one, repeating the treatment. He then moved up to his stomach, kissing it as he used his hands to toy with his pink buds. Alfred purred as the omega's back arched. Arthur wrapped his legs around his torso, bucking his hips forward. Alfred shoved his fingers in the other's mouth, the brit sucking them vigorously. Once each digit was coated with saliva, Alfred flipped him over for better access.

He inserted one cool finger, noting the way Arthur's walls closed on him. He began to move the finger as he draped himself over the brit's body, dragging his tongue up his back. Once he got to the crosses on his shoulder blades, he inserted another finger, spreading them apart in a scissoring motion. Arthur gasped and moaned underneath him as his shoulders were assaulted with licks and kisses. Alfred added another finger, curling his fingers. "Ngh~" The brit fell limp, having ejaculated for the second time in the last 30 or so minutes. He panted as the prince removed his fingers, turning around onto his back. "Go in dry." He ordered, and Alfred quirked a brow.

"You'll tear." He warned, shaking his head. He dug around in the nightstand for any kind of oil, not wanting to leave or use saliva as a lubricant. After having no luck, he groaned, stretching. "I guess I'll just-" He was interrupted by the brit jumping and straddling him. "Arthur, I'm not going in dry." He said sternly, but the other kissed him passionately, stroking his neglected member. The prince sucked in a breath, Arthur slowly aligning it to his entrance. "Arthur, I said no." He said, pushing the other away lightly. The brit whimpered desperately.

"Let me suck you."

"But that sucks as a lubricant." he deadpanned. Arthur growled at the prince, Alfred hushing him. "Do you want your ass to tear?"

"Yes!" Arthur shouted, and Alfred stared at him incredulously. "I'll heal by morning, I'm magical." Alfred still wasn't convinced. "I survived a 60 foot drop, I don't think not using lube will kill me." He argued, and the prince scowled as he climbed over his small body. He pulled a leg over his shoulder and aligned his member with his entrance. He pushed in slowly, watching the other's face intently. The omega's eyes were already watering despite the prince not being halfway in yet. Arthur threw his head back as he gripped the sheets, panting as his hole was stretched. Once the prince was fully sheathed in the uncomfortably tight heat, he waited for the other's body to relax so he could move. In the meantime, he sucked on Arthur's neck gland, causing the brit's backside to lubricate itself. Arthur began to move against him, Alfred taking that as a signal to move.

He started off slow, the brit still tight at first. Eventually his thrusts got faster, the prince losing the will to hold back. Arthur seemed to be completely fine with it, releasing scream like moans. He tugged on the alpha's hair and dragged his face down to his neck. "Bite me." he begged. "Please." Alfred nodded, lapping his desired spot and sucking the gland. He wrapped his arms around the other's waist and pulled him onto his lap, forcing the other to ride him. the brit's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he let out silent screams, dragging his nails down the other's back. The prince watched as Arthur threw his head back, preparing to orgasm before he stopped. It took the brit a moment to realize what was happening, looking at his lover in confusion. "What?" He whined, grinding his hips. Alfred bit his lips, continuing, unsure himself as to why he had stopped. He could feel his own end coming as he thrusted faster and deeper into the brit, taking the other in his palm as to speed up the process. Arthur came without interruption, the prince following right after. Arthur panted, wrapping his arms around Alfred as he used his boxers to clean them up.

The pair flopped down on the bed, the prince leaving a trail of butterfly kisses on his cheeks. Alfred pulled the blanket over them, but only after noticing the blood stains on the bed sheets. "You better be good as new in the morning." He threatened, and the Arthur purred in response.


	33. Chapter 33

**Noon that morning...**

 **Arthur's POV...**

He woke up to a rude jerk over his head, the brit panicking. Was he under attack? He looked around, blinking wildly as the sunlight touched his eyes. He ignored the mocking laughter of his mate, who seemed to think his reaction was funny. Alfred proceeded to dress the brit up as if he were an infant. "I hope you wiped me down." The American scoffed.

"I even cleaned you out." Arthur looked around the room, recognizing it to be their bed chamber. Why were they in here? Alfred followed his eyes. "We needed to bathe, so I took us here. We need to get ready to board the ship today, I completely forgot." He sighed, annoyed. He pulled some shoes onto the brit. "You wouldn't wake up, so I had to dress you myself." He continued, buckling it. "Hope you like the outfit." He stood up suddenly and began to dig in the drawers for something. Arthur stood up and straightened out his clothes, looking at the mirror. His hair was pulled into a low, short pony-tail. His blouse was a deep blue silk v-neck that was half tucked into thin black trousers that reached halfway past his calves. His shoes were simple black slip-ons, tying the piece together nicely.

"You did good." Arthur praised, placing a quick kiss on the American's cheek. The prince pulled out a silver pendant from the drawer, smiling as it shimmered. He turned to the omega, instructing him to turn around. Arthur blushed as he did so. "You don't need to-"

"Shhhh." The prince hushed, kissing the back of his head. "Just let me." He slipped the necklace around the brit's neck and clasped it from behind. "It's kind of important, and I think you should have it." Arthur turned around and kissed him, smiling when he saw the other was blushing. "Take a look at it in the mirror." He ordered, and Arthur practically bounced to the mirror, smiling at his reflection. The pendant has clear diamonds encrusted in it, and on the back there was a bird flying through a ring of thorned vines. "That's my family crest." He said as he put on his crown. Arthur looked at it for a little while longer, before walking over to him once more and kissing him.

"You called it important. Why?" He whispered. Alfred was about to speak, but then someone cleared their throat at the door. Arthur turned to see John and Arnold standing at the doorway.

"The carriage is ready." John said with a bow. Alfred thanked him, linking up arms with Arthur and leading them out of the room. The couple followed Arnold and John quietly, Arthur smirking at their banter. "Do you ever stop talking, Arnie?" John asked suddenly, and Arnold made a sound of mock offense.

"Oh how dare you? This is just like that time 10 years ago..." Arnold started, the brit tuning him out.

"Arnold's a sweetheart." Arthur said quietly to Alfred, who hummed in amusement. "I'm serious, he's sweet. A little troublesome, but overall sweet."

"He's only behaving like this because we're around. We're younger than him by a lot, and he's just trying to make us feel comfortable." He explained. "When I would accompany my father on trade deals, he was nothing like this. Cold and calculating with a hint of mockery." Arthur quirked a brow, the description matching Alfred to a 'T'. However, he kept the thought to himself. "He was like that a little earlier this week, before you had arrived. He made sure there were no holes in the plan, viewing it at many angles; he's a true businessman." Arthur bit his lip, figuring he had to be on guard. Alfred notice his composure stiffen, so he quickly added. "He has a lot riding on you, he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that." He assured, and Arthur pretended to relax.

Who could he actually trust? It's clear that he had to... rethink his inner circle. Like Elizabeta, his brothers had betrayed him, and he had a sneaking paranoia that everyone was out to get him. "Alright... can you tell me about this pendant?" He figured positive thoughts were what he needed right now. Alfred smiled brightly.

"It was my grandmother's on my father's side. Before she died, she had given it to me and told me to give it to the person I thought I wanted to be with forever." He explained. "I've rejected people left and right, and it came to the point that once I had arrived at the fortress, I locked it in a drawer. I had forgotten about it up until recently." Arthur smiled brightly.

"You want to be with me forever?" He asked shyly, the American looking down at him in mild confusion.

"Uh... Yes? I really don't know why you're asking." He said, unhooking their arms and draping it over the omega's shoulder. "I thought I made it clear that I love every inch of you." He hummed, pulling him in. Arthur chuckled softly.

"I was kidding."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

The pair boarded the boat after they had given their last farewels to everyone, the prince promising to get someone to fix the door. Arthur found it easier to depart this time, and he counted his blessings as the shoreline disappeared farther into the distance. He was currently sitting on his bed, Alfred and Arnold whispering over something in the corner, John reading a book silently. Arthur sighed, figuring he should do the same. He stood up and walked over to the bookshelf, grabbing the first book he saw. "Utopia?" The book looked interesting enough, the brit returning to the mattress and plopping down. The rest of his five weeks are going to be like this, huh?

* * *

 **1 week later...**

Arthur sat snuggled up against the pillow, trying his best to stay awake as John lectured him about posture. It's not like the lessons were boring, the brit was just so drained after his four hour sessions with Arnold, cramming 20 years worth of business experience into his head. His brain felt like butter, and Arnold was unrelenting, not dismissing the blond until he could relay everything he had learned that day and the lessons prior. Arnold's arms business was his legacy, and Arthur understood that, but he was unsure of how cut out he was for this job.

John cleared his throat. "I assume your fatigue is due to your father." He said sternly. Arthur twitched as the other called Arnold his father, the prince insisting that they address him that way so the pair would get used to it. Likewise, whenever Alfred talked to Arnold about Arthur, he would say 'your son', and when the brits spoke face to face, they addressed each other as father and son. The brit nodded.

"Yeah, but it's not too bad. He just wants to make sure I understand." He stretched, flinging the pillow to the side. "But I'm listening, so please continue." He said, straightening himself out. John nodded, clearing his throat.

"Hello, you're looking quite stunning might I say. My name is... Tino Väinämöinen" he said randomly, the brit recalling the name ever being mentioned. John could see the uncertainty in his eyes, so he elaborated. "I am the Prime Minister of Finland, I've trade relations with the United States and Britain." Arthur bowed his head.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Arthur Pendragon." He answer in finnish, John quirking a brow. Arthur translated himself.

"Ah, yes, likewise." He took a sip of his tea. "So, you said your family name was Pendragon, yes?" Arthur nodded curtly. "Well, that means you're a member of the British royal family. However, your throne was abdicated and your government was dismantled, how did you and Alfred formally get introduced?" The tone was a little hostile, the older perhaps going for an out of sorts character.

"Well," He started, racking his brain for the appropriate response. "I don't want to bore you with the details, but it was arranged between my adoptive father and the late king of America before he parished" he said simply. "I never had a chance to speak with the king personally, but I just so happen to run into Alfred unexpectedly. From there it gets a little cheesey." He chuckled a little bit. John nodded.

"Alright. I'm breaking character for a bit." he sighed, rubbing his hands together. "Good response, I liked the finnish, but mind your expression when you begin to think about your anwers, you look pensive. You need to seem as natural as possible." He critiqued, and Arthur nodded. "Okay, now one more round from the top." He cleared his throat a bit. "Well, Hallo. My name is Ludwig Beilschimdt."

* * *

 **2 weeks later...**

Arthur groaned as he re-did the calcualtions, Arnold hovering over him. They were currently going over how to calculate profit and losses under the circumstance of inflation, and Arthur swore he was going to snap. He was never a fan of math, and these exponents and percent deductions were going to make him pull his hair out. Once he thought he had the right answer, he handed the piece of parchment to his father. Arnold took the sheet, chuckling.

"Jesus Christ. You are way off, do it again." The omega scowled at the tabletop. Arnold handed him another piece of paper, the brit taking it bitterly, restarting his calculations. Arthur chewed on the top of his quill before he slammed it on the table, putting his head down in defeat. It wouldn't have been the first time the omega had thrown a tantrum, but he would usually reserve it until after the lesson whilst he was in his room. He could her Armold approach him, pulling up a chair so he could sit down beside the other. "Arthur, why have you stopped?" He said sternly. He had stopped his bubbly attitude a little over 2 weeks ago, his true cold nature taking over. Arthur didn't know which one he prefered.

"I can't do it." He muttered so lowly that he could hardly hear it himself. Arnold patted his back encouragingly.

"It took me hours to do one problem when I was first starting out, You're moving at a proper rate." He sighed, lifting up the quill. Arthur slowly lifted up his head to peak at the other's expression. Arnold's face was, as expected, blank. Well, at least he didn't get angry. "Do you want me walk you through this one?" He asked, and Arthur nodded, moving his chair closer to the other. "Alright, first thing you have to do is figure out which number is your constant."

* * *

 **1 week later...**

The brit was feeling a little weezy as he woke up that early morning, tapping Alfred awake. The prince struggled a bit before finally succumbing to his fate, opening his eyes. "Artie, it can't be past 7. What is it?" He groaned, Arthur lighting a candle. As he sat back down, he felt his stomach flip, forcing him to get up again and rush to the bathroom, emptying his stomach contents. The omega panted. Was it something he ate? "Arthur, are you okay?" He heard the other called, the soft sound of footsteps following after. The prince crouched down beside the brit, holding his hair back as he vomitted once more. "Did you eat something?" he asked, rubbing his back.

"I don't know." he said pair sat there for about 10 minutes, the brit vommiting every 3 or so. After an additional ten minutes had passed without the other vomitting, the prince brought over a rag and wiped the brit off, carrying him to bed again. The brit felt much better as he was tucked in, Alfred leaving briefly in order to empty the bucket the brit was using. By the time the prince had returned, the brit was already asleep, dozing as if nothing had happened.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Arthur drank some more water, picking at his food. It was the usual eggs and bacon, but the brit did want to eat it for some reason. He was craving..."Pancakes." He said suddenly, John, Arnold and Alfred looking at him in confusion. The brit pushed his plate aside gently. "I want to eat pancakes instead." He said, and Alfred nodded slowly, looking around with uncertainty.

"You sure? I thought you hated pancakes." He eyed the brit, who pouted at him in return. Alfred raised his hands in defense. "Alright, Alright. Uh, excuse me." He called, grabbing the attention of the nearest maid. "Yea, can I have about..." He looked over at Arthur for the amount of pancakes he wanted, Arthur bit his lips.

"Half a dozen."

"Half a dozen?" Alfred couldn't hide his mild shock, turning back to his maid. "Yeah, can I have half a dozen pancakes please. Thank you." The maid rushed off to fulfill the order, Arnold chuckling softly.

"I mean, he is a growing boy." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I'm 21 years old." He mumbled, taking another sip of his water. "And as a 21 year old, I have the right to change my palate." The prince narrowed his eyes at the other, nodding slowly. The maid returned shortly after, setting the stack of pancakes on the table. The brit pulled the plate towards himself as the maid asked him which kind of syrup would he like, the options being maple and strawberry. He bit his lip, not finding himself in the mood for any of them. "Do you have gravy?" Alfred almost spit out his strip of bacon, and Arnold smirked.

The maid looked at him curiously before heading off into the kitchen. "Gravy? On pancakes?" Alfred asked, and the brit shrugged. "Are you feeling okay? You were a little sick this morning." Arthur found it hilarious how genuinely concerned the other looked right now.

"The other two syrups didn't sound very appetizing." he said simply, Arnold laughing loudly.

"Let the boy eat how he wishes." He seemed to be in support of Arthur's breakfast choice. "It might even taste good." The maid came back with a small bowl of gravy, pouring the brown warm substance over the fluffy pancakes. Arthur could hear the Americans gag, he and Arnold laughing. "Now tell us how it tastes." Arthur cut a big piece out of the pancake, dipped it some gravy, and pushed it in his mouth. The sweet fluffy pancake and the smooth savory gravy created a sensual texture in his mouth, and he moaned in delight.

"It's really good." He said once he had swallowed, the Americans sqealing in disgust. Arnold shook his head. "You guys should try it." The brit said, his father shrugging, cutting himself a piece. He coated the piece in the brown substance and ate it in one bite. At first he had no reaction, but then he broke into a smile, chewing and swallowing it. The trio waited for his response.

"It's not the best topping, but it's certainly not the worst." He commentated, taking a sip of his wine. Alfred shook in disgust, John closing his eyes for protection of any potential projectile vomit. Arthur continued to eat his pancakes to the distress of his alpha.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Arthur had to excuse himself for the fourth time in the last hours, having to once again, pee. He had no idea why he was urinating so often, but now Alfred and John were looking at him oddly. "Jesus." He muttered as he returned from the restroom. "I need to stop drinking water then." He sat down on the bed again and picked up his book. He read his book for a liitle while before he felt a wave of sleep wash over him, causing him to yawn loudly.

"Arthur, are you sure you're okay?" Alfred asked, turning away from his advisor. "You woke up 3 hours ago, and you're tired already. Should I call the nurse?" The brit shook his head.

"I'll just take a nap. I'm fine, I promise." He yawned again, setting his book aside, pulling the blanket over his body. The moment he closed his eyes, he was unconscious, drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Alfred pouted at him, huffing as he sat up in bed. Arthur sucked his teeth sitting up also, the blanket falling to his lap. He reached out his hand to the other, holding on to his bicep. Alfred scowled at him before jerking his arm away, flopping down onto the bed and rolling to his side, back facing the brit. Arthur scowled back at him, using his hand to slap the other's back. Alfred hissed, turning to face him angrily, Arthur pinching his ear.

"Are you seriously getting mad at me?! Over something like this!?" he yanked the other's ear, Alfred yelping. "I never said we couldn't do it, I just said you can't touch me there because they're sore." His scolding continued for a minute before Alfred slapped his hand away, suddenly serious.

"I haven't touched you there in days, so why is it sore?" He asked, his tone practically dripping with suspicion. Arthur stared at him for a while before finally catching on to what he was hinting at. The brit didn't even entertain the prince, huffing as he blew out the candle, throwing the blanket over his head. Alfred didn't let the darkness stop his line of questioning. "Oh, no answer? Why does it hurt?!" he yanked the blanket off of the brit, the omega growling at him. Alfred lit the candle, the two staring at each other for a long while.

"I don't know." Arthur said finally, voice cracking. "You're so awful, you know that." He let a single tear drop, and Alfred sighed.

"Look" He said, pulling the other closer to him by the wrists. "I'm annoyed, and I'm being a dick." He kissed his forehead, the brit letting more tears fall. The brit couldn't say he wasn't shaken: his mate had just implied he had had an affair. The thought made him shake wildly as he growled lightly. Don't get him wrong, he wasn't sad. Oh no, no, no, no, no; he was angry. How dare he?! The fact that he's feeling tender doesn't constitute that he's having an affair. Alfred sighed. "Arthur... just let it out. I know you're mad." He mumbled.

"I'm not obligated to have sex with you because you say so, and me telling you no doesn't mean that I'm cheating." He hissed. "Furthermore, I never said we couldn't have sex, I was completely fine with having sex, but my... chest is sore. You know I'm a little out of it today, maybe it's hormones, or maybe it's stress but..." He sighed, shaking his head. "You can't just... I know you didn't say it, but you meant it and it hurts!" He sobbed out. "I'm not unfaithful, and it hurts that you think I'd be!" He buried his head into his neck, scenting him. He sighed as Alfred growled softly at him, kissing the top of his head apologetically. "I love you," he sniffled, lifting his head. He kissed the other passionately, opening his mouth to allow the other access. Before they could pull away in order to breathe, he bit down sharply on the other's tongue, the alpha yelping. "But the next time you do that, you're losing your tongue." He growled.

Alfred's hand covered his mouth, nodding obediently as he tried to soothe his pain. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, kissing the brit on the cheek. Arthur wiped his tears, stretching.

"Now, let's continue where we started." He pounced on the prince, who eyed him in confusion.

"What? But we just had a fight. I don't think-"

"I said let's get back to it." The brit growled, licking the shell of the prince's ear.

* * *

 **3 days later...**

Arthur frowned as the nurse shuffled in, John and Arnold standing close by in case the brit tried to run. They were all in the infrimary, the brit sitting on the operation table, waiting for his forced check up. Alfred had had enough of Arthur's bizarre behaviour, and the fact that every morning he would be rudely awakened by the omega so he could hold his hair up while he puked.

"Hello, your majesty. How are you feeling today?" She had a high pitched voice, and long black hair. She looked to be around 40 years old, her eyes showing signs of aging. She wore a nurse's uniform, and her first aid kit was in her hands.

"I'm doing fine." He answered shortly. He didn't belong here, only sick people go here. She nodded, asking the brit to open his mouth wide. He did. Then she put her hand on his chest and told him to breathe in deeply. He did.

"The prince told me that you've been ill in the mornings, is that normal for you?" She asked, writing something down in her notes.

"No." Arthur said curtly.

"He also said that you've been tired a lot lately, is that true?" She asked again.

"Yes, but I'm sure it'll pass." He assured, and she smiled to herself.

"He also said that you've been eating strangely. Apparently, you changed your usual palate, and you have changed your eating schedule. Is there a reason why?" She asked, and Arthur shrugged.

"I've just been craving things, and as for my eating pattern... I dunno, I just eat when I'm hungry." He watched as she continued to take notes.

"He said you've been urinating alot lately, and that your nipples are sore. Is this correct also?" Arthur growled when he heard Arnold snort, turning to see the older men shaking in silent laughter. The brit nodded, ignoring his blush. "He also says you've been having mood swings. One moment you were excited over getting a midnight snack, and the next you were sobbing because you couldn't remember the name of your favorite character in a book you've read. Is this true?" Arnold and John were laughing outright now, Arnold practically wheezing.

"Dad! Stop!" He yelled, the nurse chuckling herself. He turned to the nurse with a blush. "I apologize for their behaviour... Does anything sound wrong with me?" he asked, now just a little bit worried. Hearing all his issues aired out like that led him to realize that there might be something wrong. The nurse looked over to the two gentlemen by the door.

"John, hun." She called, and John looked at her expectantly. "Can you retrieve the prince?" Arthur knitted his eyebrows together. Oh, oh dear. Arthur began to shake, looking at his father for comfort. Arnold caught his glance and walked over to the small brit, taking a seat at the operation table beside him. Arthur rested his head on his shoulder, the older wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Was something wrong with him? Just then Alfred walked in, John right behind him. The prince walked over to the pair, turning to greet the nurse.

"What's wrong with him?" He asked taking a seat beside Arthur, taking his hand. The woman smiled, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

"Well, there is absolutely nothing _wrong_ with your mate. He is completely healthy." She said, and the trio sighed. "However," She added, and the trio tensed up again. "Your majesty, when was the last time you two were... intimate?" All eyes were on Alfred, Arnold's eyes practically burning holes into the side of his face. The prince blushed.

"Um, around three days ago." He offered, and the nurse nodded.

"Did his strange behaviour start before intercourse?" She asked, taking down notes.

"Yes." He said brusquely. She nodded, turning her attention to Arthur once more.

"When was your last heat?" She asked. Arthur's face twisted into a frown as he thought.

"Uh... almost 3 months ago. I'm due for another one, actually." He answered. Was this just it? Was he just going into heat?

"May I swab your glands?" She asked, and Arthur nodded. She took out a cotton swab and walked over to him. "This will feel uncomfortable, but don't move." She warned, and Arthur nodded, understanding. The brit flinched as the cotton swab slipped in between the crevasses of his glands, moving back and forth. He had to fight the urge to move, but before he knew it, it was already over. She took the swab and walked over to her desk, moving some things around. He didn't know what because he couldn't see them. Eventually she turned around to face the crowd. "That's all for know. I'll notify you once the results are in." The young couple scrunched up their noses.

"What results?" Arthur asked. She smiled brightly.

"The pregnancy results, of course."


	34. Chapter 34

**The next day...**

 **Arthur's POV...**

Alfred was folding the clothes as Arthur pretended to read a book, looking down at his stomach. The results of the test didn't come back yet, the nurse promising to notify them once it was ready. The prince was in an extremely good mood, so good of a mood that John refused to let him do any of his paperwork save he be too lenient in his decision making. Right now even, he was whistling a tune as he folded the clothes, having earlier told the maid that he's like to tend to himself for today. The brit would have loved to be as cheery as the other, but he knew that his pregnancy wasn't confirmed, and that the results may still come back negative.

Arthur sat up on his elbows, staring at his lover in order to get his attention. Alfred glanced at him questioningly as he folded the last of the clothes. "Yes?" he asked, picking a pile up and heading over to a dresser, organizing it. "Are you feeling okay?" Arthur nodded. "Hmm?" The prince turned around in order to see the omega, who nodded again.

"I just don't wanna feel too excited in case the results come back negative." Alfred nodded in understanding.

"That's smart, I'll admit. But the thought of you giving me a son is too exhilarating to not get my hopes up." Though he was turned around, Arthur could still imagine the dopey smile on his face. "When should the test be ready?" He asked as he retrieved another stack of clothes from the foot of the bed. Arthur hummed.

"In an hour or two, if I recall correctly. She said it should be done no later than noon." The thought made him shiver. He would know whether or not he was pregnant within the span of two hours; so close yet so far. He tried to force himself to relax, laying back down and looking up at the ceiling. "I would have preferred to have gotten pregnant after we were married, but I do hope I'm pregnant." Alfred hummed as he walked over to the brit, crawling on the bed and flopping down beside him. They began to cuddle, Arthur tucking his head underneath his neck.

"We can still get married before he's born." Alfred mumbled. "We'll _probably_ get married before's he's born."

"Oh, really? How? We still have no proof our marriage was approved of, which it wasn't." He said grimly, the prince shaking his head.

"John already forged the letter. He's been writing in place of my father for a very long. There is no difference between their handwritings." Alfred informed. "So now that the technicalities are dealt with, we only need to deal with my mother's nagging."

"How long until I meet her?"

"Well," Alfred started. "We're sailing straight to Virginia, so... in about 3 more days we should see the shore."

"Hmm, alright."

"She won't be that bad." Alfred added. "She'll stare you down for a few moments, and walk around you in circles. When she does that, don't be alarmed, she does that to every new person she meets. Then, she'll offer a hand; make sure to grip it firmly. Afterwards, she'll ask you questions about your past, but I'm sure you can handle those. She'll proceed to question Arnold, and he'll know what to say. She'll be cold to you for a little while, but just be yourself, she isn't a fan of overly enthusiastic people."

"Okay." The brit made a mental note. "When do we tell her I'm pregnant, if I am?" He asked. Alfred hummed for a little while.

"Once you're showing. It'll make her cold heart melt." He chuckled, and Arthur sighed. "Which wouldn't be anytime soon, my guess being that I impregnated you after you woke from your coma." Arthur scowled. He didn't even want to think about the cliff incident. "Making you about a month in."

"8 more months to go."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

 **3 hours later...**

Arthur scoffed as he watched Alfred and the crew members celebrate as they downed shots of whiskey. Arnold and John were dancing with some of the maids, sipping glasses of wine. "Look at them," he muttered. "Everyone's drinking but me." He took a long sip of his tea. He couldn't help but find it crazy that, though the party was for him, he wasn't partaking in it. "I mean, I'm the pregnant one." he grumbled. The only person paying him any attention was the nurse, who sat beside him as she sipped some tea.

"Oh, don't mind them." She advised. "This isn't your official babyshower or anything. Right now, they're just congratulating the prince on his new life. We've been worried sick over him for the last month or so, we're just happy all his suffering has paid off." Arthur hummed, finding her explanation valid.

"When will my babyshower be, then?" he asked. He wanted to get a chance to celebrate this with his family, i.e Chancy, Davie, Matthew and the frog, Francis. He didn't really know these people all too well, and would prefer to celebrate with his close friends. Who knows, maybe his inner circle will expand once he gets to the palace.

"Well, perhaps a month before you are due." She guessed. "So seven months from now." Arthur sighed, so far away. "Oh, it'll be beautiful, they always are. Because we're making good time, we'll arrive at the capital in early June. So that means we'll make the coronation, and you could make friends with the nobles from all over the world. Your babyshower will include every superpower."

Arthur quirked a brow. "Well that threw away my plans of having a small babyshower?" The nurse shook her head.

"You can still have a private one, but the focus will be at the public one." She informed.

"Arthur!" Alfred hooted as he stumbled over, arm slung over an equally drunk crew member. The brit looked over at his obnoxiously intoxicated alpha before asking what he wanted. "I just came up with the best plan!" he had a slight slur. Arthur waited for him to tell him. "Do you wanna hear it?" Alfred asked dumbly. Arthur sighed.

"Yes."

" _Alright_ , dude!" he said with a chuckled. "I just realized we'll be home weeks before the coronation-"

"Just three weeks." Arthur interrupted.

"Yea, whatever" The prince said, sitting down beside his omega. "That gives us more than enough time to plan a wedding."

Arthur stared at him blankly before narrowing his eyes. "But what about your mother?" Alfred waved the thought away.

"She can't decide who I marry once I become king. So the day after my coronation, we should just get married!" He had a wide smile. "I mean, all the important people from around the world will be there already, so we might as well get married. I'll have someone independently plan for the wedding without my mother's knowledge, and by the time it starts, she'll have no power to stop it." Arthur had to admit the plan was very clever, and his heart raced in anticipation. He kissed the other on the cheeks.

"That's a great idea!"

* * *

 **4 days later...**

"That's an awful idea." Davie and Francis deadpanned as they downed a shot. The ship had arrived the day before, the castle hectic and large and full of unfamiliar faces. They arrived at night, and because the queen was out of town for a few days, Arthur and Alfred made a bee-line to Davie and Chancy's room, where they ran into Matthew and Francis. There were a few tears shed from Davie, soft sobbing from Chancy, and loud laughing from Geoffrey. Arthur discovered Chancy to be very pregnant, already showing underneath his pijamas. They had ended up staying the night in their room, the group not wanting to part ways just yet.

Now it was morning, and Alfred had consulted with Davie and Francis about his new plan. The prince had discussed it with Arnold and John, who thought it was a decent back up plan in case the mother rejected Arthur outright. The pair, however, didn't really like it one bit. "Why?" Alfred asked, and Davie folded his arms.

"What if she finds out? It'll be more than just awkward, I can tell you that." He bent down to give Geoffrey a sip of water from a bottle, the infant crawling around near his foot. The sight of the baby reminded Arthur that he hadn't told them about the pregnancy, wanting to wait until he was showing before inform them. He had ordered his mate not to tell anyone, and he had made sure to swear the crew into secrecy before they had docked.

"She won't find out if you don't open your big mouth." Alfred shot, and Davie rolled his eyes.

"I'm great at keeping secrets." he said simply, before narrowing his eyes. "But I guess not as good as you two." His tone was slight accusatory, the couple uncertain of what he was hinting at. "Oh, you can't use your magic to read my mind?" He teased, and Arthur snapped his head towards Chancy, glaring. The Frenchman shrugged.

" _He kept asking about that night at the harbor, so I had to tell him that I was a witch._ " he explained in French. " _He asked about your involvement and I let it slip by accident. I'm sorry._ " He looked down at the ground, no longer meeting the brit's eyes.

"I have not told anyone." Davie added. "I mean, that'd be dumb, considering Chancy is my husband to be. He'd leave me otherwise." Arthur smiled, trusting the darkhaired man.

"Marriage? I assume your parents approve of Chancy now." Arthur said, taking a sip of tea. Davie shook his head.

"They still hate him." He corrected. "But I've stopped talking to them."

"You've cut communication off with your parents?" Alfred asked, genuinely shocked. Davie nodded.

"The back and forth wasn't worth it anymore. I wasn't going to annull my mateship." He explained. Arthur was happy for them, glad that things worked themselves out.

" _Oh, so are you still talking to your parents?_ " The brit asked Chancy in French, Francis humming.

" _They died a few years back in a fire._ " Francis said lightly, and the brit threw him a confused look. No, no they didn't. However the brit kept that knowledge to himself. Chancy can read his expression, releasing a deep groan of frustration. Arthur shook his head at him, as a way to tell him without really saying that he doesn't need to tell the truth after right now. Francis stared at the pair for a bit before moving on in english. "But back to your little plan. Yes, I agree a wedding a day after your coronation would be fantastic, but think of the influence your mother still has. If I were you, I would start building up Arthur's public appearance right now before your mother comes back." Arthur nodded, but he was unsure of how to do that.

"How?" Alfred asked.

"Maybe have him ride through the town with you in a really pretty dress. Americans like a pretty queens. Then a few days later have him distribute some money to the poor. After that, introduce him to the nobles formally at a dinner." He listed these things off the top of his head. "Then, once everyone is already fond of you, the queen-mother will be partially inclined to like you."

Arthur blinked slowly as the prince nodded. "I have a ride through the town scheduled for today, actually, and a meeting with the nobles tonight." He turned to his omega. "We can start today."

"I'm fine with that, I guess." He mumbled. "I guess its time I put my training to the test."

"Oh, you'll be fine." Matthew said suddenly. The prince had just finished taking a nap on Arthur's lap. "They're shallow as hell, if anything, they'll be competing for your favor, not the other way around." The brit nodded, appreciative of the other's reassuring words. Arthur found himself aching to tell them about his pregnancy, but he ignored the pain.

"Thank You."

There was a shy knock on the door, and a maid shuffled in with breakfast. It was the typical bacon, eggs, sausages, fruit and milk. He wasn't in the mood for any of those things, be he feared the other's might notice his cravings so he just stomached it. He had a moderate portion of eggs and sausage, the smell of the bacon almost making him gag a few times. The food wasn't sitting right with the brit as he forced it down. Eventually, he couldn't take it any longer, getting up abruptly and rushing out of the room, into the bathroom, puking in the first empty bucket he saw. In a minute Alfred was crouching down beside him, skillfully pulling his hair back as he vomitted. He rubbed his back gently as he hummed a tune, their favorite tune, to calm down the other. Then there was a knock, Matthew peaking in.

"Are you alright?" He asked, arms folded in concern. Alfred stared back at his brother unblinkingly before replying with a short yes. "Should I bring a physician?" Alfred shook his head.

"He'll be fine." He assured. Matthew left slowly, eyeing the pair as Arthur continued to vomit in the bucket. "Everything'll be fine." He whispered to the brit. "I'll get a rag ready." He stood up slowly and left the room. Arthur muttered to himself in Arabic, the prince coming back with a cold wet rag. "Tell me when you think it'll be over." he ordered, and the brit nodded.

About an additional 10 minutes had passed before the omega finally decided that he was ready to get up. The prince wiped his face and handed him a cup of water to rinse his mouth with. The two exited the bathroom awkwardly as the room watched them with concerned eyes. "I can give you a little check up. I would prefer to, actually." Davie said, standing up carefully as to not bump into Geoffrey. He went over to his desk, and Arthur protested.

"I'm fine, love, really." He said. "I've already seen a physician, they said it's nothing major, just random waves of sickness." He waved his hand to seem more convincing, however, the excuse was dumb so they all looked at him with suspicious eyes. He sighed, needing a more convincing story. "I was... uh... impaled." Alfred snapped his head towards his lover as they sat down, growling at the memory. The room went silent, this incident not being discussed the night before. In fact, Arthur left out the whole evil brothers thing as a whole, only wanting to enjoy the moment. "It's a long story. Alfred should tell it." he passed the batton.

The prince made a face before shrugging. "His brothers were behind the kidnapping." The room gasped, some in shock that his family would do something like that, others in shock he even had brothers. "They took him back to England, kept him in a cave while they tortured him disguised as the palace sorcerer." He took a puase, looking at Arthur. "Is that when they... burned you?" he asked lowly, and Chancy gasped loudly, swearing as he stood up, walking over to his desk. "What're you doing?" Alfred asked the smaller, and Chancy replied in french.

" _They want to burn him? Well I got a good look at them that night, I'm gonna curse them_." he was fumbling with his a few beads as he arranged them in a circle. He couldn't be serious.

"No!" Arthur inputted. "It's not worth it, really. The burns healed, see?" he lifted up his shirt to show a hand sized rubbery patch shaped like a cross. The room gasped, Davie ordering Chancy to make some scar cream. The blond nodded, heading to his drawer and pulling out some ginger root. "It's okay, really. I've tried everything, this is about as good as it gets."

"You let them get away with that?!" Matthew barked at his brother, Alfred's mouth opening and closing rapidly. "Wow! Wow, _unbelievable_ , Alfred!"

"I didn't figure it out until they already had Arthur under a death curse, so any misstep could have cost me his life." He said in his defense. "After pretending to help him for almost a month, they threw him off a cliff where he was impaled by a rock. His powers just kicked in just in time to save his life." The room was still glaring at the prince. "What was _I_ gonna do? Jump down after him? I was nowhere near there because I was swordfighting with the redhead-"

"The redhead?" Davie and Matthew asked in unison. Matthew continued to speak. "The redhead, as in the one who _killed_ dad?" Arthur took a long sip of his tea as he looked down. He just opened up a can of worms, huh?

"Yes, but-"

"But he's still alive, huh?" He shot back, eyes filled with disgust. "You were literally given every reason to kill that man, but you wouldn't!"

"It's not that I wouldn't, it was because I _couldn't_! He wiped out an _entire_ camp of soldiers single handedly, he's not what I would call a weak opponent. Furthermore," Alfred took a breath. "In the middle of my fight Arthur was delivered all torn up and shit. So my priority wasn't avenging dad, it was making sure Arthur was still alive. And even after that, I had no idea how to treat a wound of that size; his organs were busted and his lungs collapsed. I needed _people_ with magic to help _heal_ him with magic." Matthew huffed, turning to Arthur.

"And how did that work out?" he asked, and Arthur shrugged.

"They poisoned me." He blurted, realizing his mistake as everyone in the room began barking at Alfred, who settled on glaring holes into his mates face. "He couldn't have known. He had only started to suspect things after my seizure." He explained in his mate's defense. There was an awkward silence before Francis scrunched his nose in disgust.

"You watched as they put him in a _seizure_?" He spat, Alfred looking at him incredulously.

"I didn't just watch-"

"Really, because this entire story just sounds like you were _just_ watching as your mate got hurt." Matthew shot, Alfred fliching at his harsh words.

"Guys." Arthur tried to calm them down, but they were just picking him apart.

"Claiming ignorance won't make his burns go away." Davie stated.

"They put him in a death curse, and you probably did nothing but conceed to their demands, what did the ask for?" Matthew inquired, and Alfred shook his head. "What did they ask for?"

"Guys! Stop it-" The omega was interrupted by the prince's hum swallowing up the noise of the room, everyone soon falling into silence. Once everyone was settled down, the prince stood up and exited the room wordlessly, closing the door behind him. Arthur felt his heart bleed with guilt. His stupid big mouth caused this assault on his alpha. The room was full of murmurs, still talking about Alfred's failings. "Guys." Arthur said, getting their attention. "I know you guys are upset that I got hurt, but you shouldn't take it out on Alfred. He was doing his best considering he was dealing with supernatural beings. He had no idea who to trust, and for the majority of Alfred's encounter with Allister, or the redhead as you know him, I had to continuously _beg_ Alfred not to try and kill him."

"But," Matthew started, and Arthur hushed him softly.

"I can only imagine how much of a wreck he was while I was missing, or in a coma. I can only imagine how angry he was when he actually had to conceed to their demands, otherwise I would have died." Arthur informed. "Though he's acting all confident all the time... he's come out of this realizing that he _wasn't invincibl_ e, and that no matter how well he planned, there are just some things out of his control. T _his entire situation_ was out of his control, and he had to adapt to it as best he could. I doubt any of _you_ could do any better." With that, he stood up slowly. "Now, I'm not mad, but I won't be apologizng for any of you. So, I'm off." he said, leaving the room with that, off to find his mate.

* * *

 **2 hours later...**

Alfred sat silently as they rode the carriage through the city, the brit being forced to wave and greet the civilians alone. Though, it wasn't as hard as it sounded because he was doing so from his passenger window, and guards were walking alongside the carriage to protect his face in case someone tried to throw anything dangerous. However, to Arthur's delight, the only thing the people were throwing were flower petals, calling out the omega's name in song. He was flattered, but his happiness was dampered at the fact that his mate wasn't enjoying it as much as he was.

He sat down in his seat as the carriage rode over a bridge. "Alfie, I hope you still aren't thinking about earlier." He rested his head on the other's shoulder. "I wish you'd lighten up." The prince glanced down at him in response, before looking forward once again. "I said I was sorry, for being as stupid as I was and telling them what I had." He mumbled, before humming. "I scolded them after you had left. I told them the situation was out of your hands from the very beginning."

The roar of the excited crowd caused Arthur to pull away slightly and wave to them once more, smiling brightly.

"You're so beautiful!" Someone screamed.

"I love your hair!" Another woman yelled. Arthur touched his hair, wavy because Alfred had wet it and braided it up, unbraiding it once it was dry. "Your dress is amazing!" Another hooted, and Arthur glanced down. He was wearing a red dres very similar to the lavender dress he wore almost 2 months ago. Alfred had picked this dress out. The brit sat down again, looking over at his mate who was waving to the people on his side of the carriage, smiling as people praised him and called his name. However, even from here, Arthur could tell the smile was fake. Once the prince sat down comfortably, he frowned at the roof of the vehicle in deep thought.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked, a little annoyed. "I had already apologized for what happened earlier, why won't you just get over it?" he growled lightly, the prince glaring at you. However he didn't say a word, in fact, he only watched you. "What? What Alfred, what?" He whined, grabbing the other's arm. The other began looking forward, ignoring the omega. If Arthur didn't do anything this will continue all day. "Alfred, for the sake of the baby, just tell me what's bothering you." Yeah, he went there, and after a few tense moments he reluctantly shifted in order to face his mate.

"Nothing." He said simply, and Arthur frowned. He grabbed the other's hand and placed it on his stomach. Alfred groaned. "It's not about earlier... well it is but... _ugh_!" He scratched his eyes. "It's not just about earlier. I guess it's everything that's happened in the last 3 months or so. I'm just worn, is all." He muttered. "I don't blame you." Arthur furrowed his brows.

"You should talk about it." He suggested, and the prince shrugged.

"I mean, there's not much to talk about." He offered. "Matthew's as mean as ever, Francis is as judgmental as ever. Davie's... well I expected it from Davie. Chancy yelling at me was just bizarre." he let out a bitter chuckle. "But, even before the ship shored on England, John had already lectured me on my failings. My mother told me, before I had left, that you were probably dead, that this was a wild goose chase. I remember shrugging the doubts off, that I was faring better than others would in my situation, but I guess now that everything has settled, looking back in hindsight, I made some mistakes." His eyes wouldn't reach Arthur's as he spoke.

"You're right about doing the best you can with the opportunities given; you're not a failure." He muttered, kissing the crestfallen prince on the forehead. "You are a completely capable alpha, so stop looking back at the past and focus on the future. Like cake flavors and themes for our wedding." Arthur placed his forehead on the other's, smirking at the wide cheesey smile on Alfred's face. "Now," he said, pulling away. "Lets get back to business." He returned to the window, waving at the crowds of people laughing in delight. Arthur waved as Alfred pushed next to him, the two sharing a window.

"Prince Alfred! Prince Arthur!" the people cheered in excitement. Alfred placed a soft kiss on Arthur's cheek, the crowd going wild.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

The prince and Arthur were sipping their drinks as the nobles shuffled in. They all took seats, practically staring at the brit. Arthur was in the mood for fried chicken, pleased to see an entire roasted chicken arrive on a tray. His mouth was watering as a maid cut the chicken, the golden brown skin of the foul tantalizing. The brit figured he should be patient, looking around the room. They weren't in the main hall, but rather in the private dining room. It was no larger than Davie and Chancy's bedroom, the wall a simple black and the floor red. The table was made of expensive wood, with a chandelier hanging above it. The black wall had a few flower accents, along with some lights. There was a candelabra at the center of the table, the flame burning brightly.

Arthur looked arond at the expectant faces of the nobles, each one looking surprisingly unique when compared to the others. One woman and her husband had pitch black hair with bright feather hats. They had birdlike noses, and dark eyes that contrasted very well with their very pale skin. Another couple had golden blond hair, the woman's hair flowing down to her waist, her husband's stopping just short of his ears. She had lime green eyes, and he had warm brown ones. She also had a very pretty ruby necklace on. The next couple was an African Ameircan one, the woman's kinky hair spiralled into neat curls that were resting on her shoulders. Her husband had short kinky hair and a large top hat, a big mustache on his upper lip that connected to a neatly trimmed beard. What really stood out about them were their silver eyes, that seemed to bore into Arthur's soul. He turned his attention to the next couple, a woman with messy brunette hair that had twigs in it, and a man whose hair was gelled backed into a wave pattern. They looked like polar opposites, but here the woman was, adjusting his tye. The last couple were people he was already familiar with: Davie & Chancy. The blond smiled at him brightly and waved a bit, Davie offering him a curt nod. To make a blanket statement about all of the nobles: None looked over 25.

Alfred cleared his throat as the food was placed on people's plates. "Thank you all for meeting on such short notice." He started. The nobles nodded, kind smiles on their youthful faces. "I, uh..." The prince trailed off, humming. "I don't know what I'm doing." He said honestly. "Can we just cut the formalities, our parents aren't here." He groaned. There was a relieved sighed released from various members at the table. The woman with the feather hat spoke first, tipping her hat at Arthur.

"Hello, my name is Anabelle Drake, and this is my husband Thomas." She introduced, her accent thick, but the brit unfamiliar with where it came from. Arthur offered his own name back. She smiled brightly. "Pendragon? As in Uther Pendragon? Was he your father?"

"Yes, of sorts." Arthur sighed, taking a sip of his sparkling water. The woman with the long blond hair began to speak.

"Ah, yes. I ran into your _adoptive_ father last night." She had a southern accent, it was charming. "He's quiet the character, I appreciated the eccentrics." She took a slow sip of her wine. "My name is Julia Livingston, by the way. This is my husband, Marshall." The blond man waved at Arthur, reaching into his pockets and pulling out his bright blue glasses, putting them on his face.

"Alfred has a pair like that, but they're red." Arthur looked at Alfred. The prince made a face.

"I hate those things." He shuddered. "It makes me look like a dweeb." He said, taking a long swing of his wine. "But they look great on _Marshie_." He complimented, Marshal frowning at the nickname.

"We aren't 15 anymore, Alfred. You're to be king in less than a month-" Alfred cut him off with a yawn, Marshal rolling his eyes, turning to Davie. "Did you _really_ deal with him for 3 years?"

"Hey!" As the boys bickered, the African American woman introduced herself from across the table.

"My name is Isabelle Deen, and this is my husband, Clark." Arthur twitched at the last name, flashbacks to little over a month ago.

"Are you related to Mayor Clara Deen? I met with her a while back." Clark answered.

"She's my younger sister. I heard about what went down in her government building, I'm sorry for the trouble." He offered. Arthur shook his head.

"Oh, it's no cause to apologize." he assured. "I like your hat, did you import it?" He changed the subject, the current one uncomfortable. Isabelled interjected.

"I made it, actually. I run a hat company on the side." Arthur was impressed. "Your adoptive father is a business man, what does he do?" Arthur took a sip of water.

"He's in the arms business. He's trying to get rid of all his inventory soon though." Isabelle asked why. "Well, I don't know if I can say, but he's upgrading his weapons." She nodded, taking a bite out of her food. The woman with tangled brunette hair with leaves in it cleared her throat loudly, clinking a fork against her wine glass to quiet everybody down.

"My name is Mary, and this is Jorge." She had a spanish accent, Jorge nodding to his greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Arthur replied, smile on his face. "You have a few..." He motioned to her hair, and she shook her head.

"Yes, I know." She said, taking out a twig. "Chancy _pushed_ me into the bushes earlier. I don't normally look like this." She assured, and Chancy gasped.

"It was an accident." He said in a deep french accent. "You scared me and I panicked." He pulled a twig out of her hair in apology, the girl smiling. Davie and Arthur chuckled in unison. Marshall called your attention.

"You seem like a sane, pretty man, why did you settle for _Alfred_?" The blond asked, the table erupting in laughter. Oh, looks like it's time to implement his lessons.

"You mean like how we met?" He asked a clarifying question, the table nodding. "Oh, I honestly just ran into him one day. He was dying, I was naked, you know, _the usual_." The table erupted in laughter. "No, but seriously. It was some time in November, and I had just escape the tunnels of London. I was taking a longawaited bath in a stream when I heard... thudding and groaning. I hop out the river, naked, my clothes wet because I had just washed them. I turn to see Alfred, in a full set of armor, passed out on the ground. I knew it was an American, and after three years underground, the last thing I wanted to do was help him. My conscious got the better of me, fortunately, and I tried to treat his wounds. It gets... complicated from there."

"Like how?" Isabelle asked. The brit groaned.

"Well, months prior my adoptive father and his father had correspondence over marrying me off to Alfred. I knew about it because I had left the tunnels about 6 months before our initial meeting." the room nodded in understanding. "It was agreed that my brother and I would be fetched from the tunnels by Americans and taken to the fortress where I could meet the King and prince. However, when the day came, the Americans separated my brother and I, which wasn't a part of the plan. I realized a day in that something was off, so I escaped them, which was why I was in the river instead of my way to the castle. I had no idea I had run into Alfred until I had stopped his bleeding. When he had told me about the raid at his campsite, thats when I realized the bandits my father had used to carry letters had crossed us."

"Who were these bandits?" Julia asked, raking through her hair.

Arthur bit his lips. "The leaders were the other children of Uther Pendragon, better known as the Kirkland brothers." The room gasped.

"You're a Kirkland?" Jorge asked, and Arthur held up his hands.

"Not really. I wasn't raised with them, and I had only learned of them and my heritage in the middle of the war. I'm hardly a Kirkland, and I think they'd agree."

'How do you know? Have you spoken to them since?" Anabelle asked, and Arthur nodded.

"They're the ones who kidnapped me, and they pushed me off a cliff." The room was silent. "Anyway, now that I knew the king was dead, and that my 'brothers'" he made air quotations. "Had kille him, I couldn't just tell Alfred the truth out front, he'd have me guillotined. So I lied for a few weeks. I eventually told him, and we got into an argument. I left, going to search for my brother, who I hadn't seen since we were taken from the tunnels, and almost died of frostbite. He retrieved me, said he wasn't that mad, he was still angry, but he was less angry now. Uh... Then the Kirkland brothers sent a spy to infiltrate my inner circle, using her to enter the fortress and try to kidnap me."

"Why?" Davie asked, confused.

"Because." Arthur shrugged. "Parliament had told the that they'd retore the british crown if all surviving children of the king come together. I ended up getting stabbed by one of them, but I survived. Then I found out my younger brother was dead, which, of course, devasted me. Fastfoward a few months, we're in New York, and the Kirklands have somehow followed us. They killed two people as a threat, and a few weeks later they kidnapped me under a disguise, pretended to save me, and then pushed me off a cliff." He told, the room nodding solemnly.

"But I bet Alfie put them in their place." Clark surmised, other around the room nodding in agreement.

"They were poisoning him by the time I realized they were the ones behind all of this." He said softly. "Arthur was dying and they offered to give him... an antidote in return that I sign a document to remove all troops from England. If I said no, Arthur would have died, so... no I didn't put them in their place." He muttered, Thomas shrugging.

"Well, that was a bizarre situation. I'm sure your hands were tied." He said nonchalntly, taking a bite of his food.

"Why thank you T _ommie_?" Thomas glanced at him with a face.

"We're not 14 anymore, Alfred, so don't. Or else I'll beat you up." He had a wicked grin on his face. Alfred smirked.

"I'll glue that ugly hat to your head." He threatened playfully. The feathery couple gasped in offense, clutching their headwear. Alfred rose a brow. "What? Those hats aren't your colors. A solid green one would do you justice." he suggested, and Anabelle hummed, taking off her hat and examining it.

"Maybe..." She mumbled as she tried to imagine it. As they were doing that, Julia, Chancy, Mary, Isabelle and Arthur began to talk random things.

"For a moment," Mary started. "When I walked in, I thought my information was wrong because I saw you in such a flattering dress that I had thought you were a woman." She looked dead serious. "I seriously thought I was going to reevaluate my life for a moment." Julia shrugged.

"I do like your dress, however. Did you wear it around town?" Arthur nodded. "Did the people like it?" Arthur nodded.

"Yes, I believe they did. Alfred picked it out for me." The circle glanced at the prince in shock.

"Really?" Chancy asked. It shouldn't be that surprising, right.

"He picks most of my outfits." He continued. "If I were left to pick my own clothes, I would just wear his, and stain them." The circle chuckled.

"I wish I could trust Jorge with such a simple task." Mary sighed. "He's too immature; he'll pull out lingerie." Arthur chuckled.


	35. Chapter 35

**Hey guys, I know, first Author's note in a loooonnnggg time! But I would just like to shout out everyone who has followed me so far, and of course to you really kind reviewers. Thanks for nearly 50 followers! Been over a year now, and it's hilarious how I thought I could make this a ten chapter fic!**

 **Anyway, back to the story...**

 **Arthur's POV...**

 **2 days later...**

The dinner was a huge success, now that he was looking back. Since then, he, Chancy and the ladies were inseparable, doing almost everything together. Currently they were having a picnic in the courtyard as their mates trained in their armor. Arthur tried his hardest to ignore the sound of clashing metal as he held on to a squirming Geoffrey, who wanted to play with his hair. Eventually he gave in, allowing the infant to do as he pleased, sighing as his hair was yanked. Mary, whose hair was in tight neat curls, sucked her teeth.

"This reminds me." She whined. "Julio is supposed to get out of classes soon. I hope he has plans, because I'm about to get my nails done." She groaned as she downed her glass of wine. Julio was her 5 year old son, who was currently in kindergarten. Most of the ladies had children around 5 years old already, Julia actually having 2 kids, twin girls who looked exactly like her. Arthur looked over at Alfred, disappointed when he couldn't see his face; he wanted to guess which of his features would their child possess. He sighed sadly. "What's wrong?" The Costa Rican woman asked. "You sound sad."

If Arthur had learned one thing from his time around the nobles, it was that they were very observant, and quite affectionate. He shrugged. "I not upset about anything... I think." He picked up a strawberry. "I mean... aren't swords a little primitive?" He asked suddenly, the group growing quiet. Isabelle chuckled.

"I would say so." She agreed. "But, there's no other weapon that can be mass produced as fast as the swords." He shrugged, and narrowed his eyes at his lap.

"I know, but..." He looked for his thoughts. "I arrived to the states on a steamship." He ran his hand through his hair. "There are factories in New York. Why are we mass producing swords, when we could be making more advanced canons and even firearms."

"My thoughts exactly." Said a gruff voice. The group turned to see Arnold walking towards them. He had on a white blouse with a very detailed red and white coat that had long tails that dragged on the floor. His pants were a deep navy blue, the bottoms tucked into his short black boots. Arthur snickered as he stood up, walking over to his father.

"You're looking quite... patriotic." He teased, Arnold looking down at his outfit in confusion. He chuckled as he realized the red, white and blue ensemble. The two proceeded to talk about the weather, and the conversation slowly drifting towards his arms business again.

"It's been a while since we've had a lesson." He said cooly, and Arthur groaned. He began to complain about the math, and the older man hushed him. "Whining won't do anything, I assure you. I'll let you finish your little tea party, but I want you in the prince's solar by 2 o'clock." He ordered gruffly, turning away and walking off. Arthur stared in his direction for a little while, Geoffrey whimpering in his arms. Arthur finally sighed, heading back slowly to the girls, who were chatting away.

"Look out!"

The Brit instantly seized up, shielding Geoffrey with his body as something hard and dense smacked him upside his head. He fell to his knees as his friends rushed over to him, but he could already see stars. He landed with a thud on his side, still being mindful of the baby as he passed out.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

The brit woke up with an awful headache, the back of his head pulsating. He opened his eyes slowly, recognizing the room to be his, and a small group of people around him, reading and fidgeting with papers. He could see Isabelle, Chancy and Julia talking in the corner, Chancy holding on to his child with a deathgrip. He could see Davie and Marshal laughing over something with Alfred closeby, listening but not really caring for the conversation. Arthur sat up with a groan, grabbing the attention of the room. Everyone slowly made their way towards the bed, the nobles looking concerned. Alfred, Davie and Chancy didn't look all too stressed, considering he had suffered through worse.

"What hit me?" He tried to speak, but his throat was so dry that it only came out as a whisper. Julia deciphered it though.

"My idiot husband threw his shield." She huffed, glaring at Marshall, who looked down at his feet. "He was practicing this stupid trick he had seen in a play and he had wanted to show Alfred how it went. Whilst in the middle of it, the shield slipped and it collided with your head. It was moving quite fast, thank goodness you are alright. I've seen people perish from lesser things." She rambled, nudging her husband.

"Erm... I would like to apologize from the bottom of my heart." He sounded very sincere, and before the brit could stop him, he continued. "I really had no intention of harming you, or anyone. I was foolish for trying to show off as if there weren't infants and unarmored people around." Arthur laughed, despite his head threatening to burst open.

" _It's fine_." His voice was gravelly. " _My head hurts like shit, and I think a part of my brain is jelly_." He sighed, the group looking at him in confusion.

"What?" Marshall asked, confused. Oh, did he not get that it was a joke?

" _No, no, I'm just kidding_." He assured. " _I just need some rest._ " Alfred cleared his throat, looking at the brit in concern.

"You're speaking in another language, babe _._ " He grabbed Arthur's hands. "You knew that, right?" Arthur shook his head.

" _Well, am I speaking in English now?_ " He asked, looking wildly around the room. Chancy shook his head.

"That's French." He corrected. What?!

" _What about now?!_ " He climbed out of bed, gripping the wall as he walked. The room remained silent, not understanding what he was saying. " _Holy shit! Dad! Dad_!" He was screeching now, needing someone who could possibly translate. " _Dad!_ " He was breathless, falling to his knees. "Daddy!?"

"Yes!" The room screamed excitedly, Arthur jumping. "That's English! We understood that!" Marshal exclaimed, rushing over to the brit, helping him up.

"Really?"

"Yes." Chancy assured. "'Daddy~'" He mocked, Isabelle snorting. Arthur rolled his eyes as Alfred lifted him and put him on the bed, tucking him in.

"I was legitimately terrified. I thought I was going to have to learn how to play charades." He mumbled, the group staring at him in confusion. Arthur shot up again, only to be greeted with stifled laughter. "You guys are horrible." He groaned, lying down, turning his back to them. "When should I be better? My head feels like it's been liquified and frozen." He grumbled, Davie clearing his voice.

"By tomorrow."

"So soon?" Isabelle asked. Davie nodded.

"The wound wasn't that deep. He only needed 4 stitches." He informed. "He'll be fine." Chancy crawled into the bed suddenly, yawning, laying down next to the brit. Though Julia and Isabelle looked confused, Alfred, Davie and Marshall thought nothing of it. The Frenchman rested his head on the other's chest to use as a pillow. "Alright then, I guess we should leave you two to sleep." The doctor shrugged, kissing Chancy goodbye and patting Arthur on the shoulder. "I'll take Geoffrey." He aded, scopping the infant off the ground and leaving the room, the others shuffling behind. Alfred too left a brief kiss on the brit's cheek, nodding at Chancy as he closed the door behind him.

The omegas stayed in silence until Chancy rolled over so he was no longer on the brit. He sighed in slight aggravation. "When were you going to tell me?" He asked, placing a hand on the other's face. Arthur reached to swat the other away, but Chancy shook his head. "I'm healing you, so answer my question." He commanded, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Well what is this question? I have no idea what you're talking about." He huffed. The frenchman glared at him, but he remained silent. Arthur could slowly feel the pain go away, sighing in relief. The tension was fading, similar to a stuffy nose being cleared up. After a few more minutes the pain was virtually gone, the brit thanking the other. "Thank you." He muttered, Chancy removing his hands from his face.

 _"I know you're pregnant, I could feel it once you had arrived at the palace_." He said rather bluntly in French, the englishman looking at him with wide eyes and a shaky smile. He groaned.

" _Don't tell anyone_." Arthur spat, and Chancy nodded.

" _Don't worry, I won't tell anyone._ " He promised. " _Does Alfred know?_ " Arthur smiled, nodding. " _Well, congratulations to you guys_." Arthur beamed at him.

" _Thank Yo-_ "

" _Our kids will be the same age!_ " Chancy said suddenly, the brit noddding in excitement.

" _What if they're the same gender? We can bathe them together and they can sleep in the same room._ " Arthur added, Chancy nodding. " _They can be best friends, like we are!"_

 _"Yeah!"_ Chancy said _. "I hope they're girls."_ He began to rub his little baby made a disappointed noise, wanting boys.

" _Alfred and I want the first to be a boy. He's eager to get having an heir out of the way_." He informed, the frenchman nodding in understanding.

" _That's smart, seeing that you are royalty._ " From there the conversation shifted towards what Chancy was doing while Arthur was away. " _Well, besides worrying about you_ ," He started, Arthur blowing him a kiss. " _I would hang out with Mary and Anabelle, watch Geoffrey, and do a whole bunch of paperwork_." Arthur was confused as to why he was doing until he remembered that Chancy was the French ambassador now.

" _Did you talk to your mom again?_ " Arthur asked, Chancy nodding.

" _She hates Davie a lot less since he's cut communication with his parents._ " He had a grim face on. " _It wasn't easy for him, too. He couldn't eat for days and refused to leave his room if it had nothing to do with work. I was even willing to deal with his mother's dissapproval if it meant that he could talk to his parents and feel better again. He refused, though, even after I had told him I was a witch. He's made an empty room his new surgery apart from his mother's, finding that it was the best way to thoroughly cut all ties with her. He avoids the gardens on weekends because he'll probably run into his father. It's just... depressing really_."

Arthur bit his lip. Maybe he was biased, but he didn't find Davie's situation all that bad. He just had to make a single choice: the love of his life, or his parents approval. In the long run, the former seemed to be the more sensible option. Chancy narrowed his eyes at the brit. " _What?_ "

" _I can see the contempt in your eyes._ " He stated, Arthur making a face. _"I'm serious! I mean... it's so much harder than it sounds, Arthur. I know hypotheticals are dumb, but let's say your parents were still with us._ " He proposed, Arthur nodding. " _What if they disapproved of Alfred so much that they're practically doing everything they can to keep you apart. Can you honestly say that, considering everything your parents have done for you, you can cut them off and never speak to them again? That you'll disregard the nine months your mother carried you, and all the times she's made you laugh when you felt down? The nights she lost sleep because she was caring for your illnesses? You'll ignore the sacrifices your father had made in order to provide for his family? For you?_ " The englishman was a little shocked to see the other's eyes start to water. " _Because I can't. And the fact that he was willing to do that for me makes me feel miserable because he's losing such an important part of his life_." Arthur, pulled the other into a hug.

 _"He knew what he was doing, and I think he was fully aware of why he was doing it._ " He whispered, Chancy shaking as he broke down into a sob. " _He loves you, and when someone loves someone, they'll do anything to make the other happy. He didn't want the rest of your relationship to be filled with you slowly resenting him, and possibly leaving him. He wanted to secure your spot in his life, even if it meant some pain on his end._ "

" _But i-it's not fair_!"

" _It's just how things work, Chancy._ " Arthur had no better way to respond. " _That's just the way the world works."_

 _"My father might be coming, soon."_ He said randomly, Arthur looking down in shock. " _I haven't heard from or of him since I had told him I mated. It's been 3 months already, and he's definitely been planning something."_ The brit didn't know what to say.

" _Did you tell Davie that your parents are still alive_?" Arthur asked. It'll be more than unfortunate if Davie learned that the other had lied the moment he met with his father.

" _He knew that from the beginning. That's the first thing I told him when we met._ " He rubbed at his eyes. " _Oh god, I just hope he doesn't hurt my husband._ " The frenchman sounded truly miserable. Arthur just continued his attempts to cheer him up as he cried, promising him that it'll get better. " _That's easy for you to say, you're not living a lie!_ " Then englishman struggled to hold back his scoff; his whole existence was a lie.

" _Love, if you don't calm down, Davie will notice and come check up on y-_ " Arthur was interrupted by a swift knock on the door. "Who is it?"

"Us." The omegas sucked their teeth. It was Davie and Alfred.

"Go away!" Chancy called out. There was an awkward silence until someone from behind the door cleared their throat.

"Why?" It was Davie speaking. "I mean... if you're not okay, you should tell me why, shouldn't you?" His tone had a bit of an attitude, and Chancy growled.

"I just want to be alone!" He shot back, and Davie scoffed.

"Then why are you with Arthur?!" Arthur could tell the other was getting upset, his tone harsher and more aggressive. Chancy was quiet for a while, before groaning, standing up. He walked over to the door and swung it open violently, the door handle slamming against the wall. He stormed over to the bed, the two alphas following after. Alfred looked uncomfortable, giving Arthur a look telling him to uninvolve himself in the situation. Arthur slunk off the bed, clearing his throat.

"I think we should be off." He announced meekly, Chancy shaking his head.

"No." He started, jabbing a finger in Davie's chest. "What do you want? I was in the middle of something." Davie, who stood a few inches taller than him, glanced down.

"I felt you crying... again." He sighed. Chancy frowned.

"Again?" He sounded confused, tilting his head to the side. He had suddenly lost all of his anger, grabbing Davie's hands. "What do you mean?" Davie rose his brows.

"I felt you crying everyday for the last 2 weeks or so. Whenever I came to check on you, you were all recooperated." Chancy shook his head again, rubbing at his eyes.

"This is the first time I'm crying in weeks." He said. "Are you sure you just were not feeling... uh, Goeffrey or something?" He suggested, and Davie shook his head.

"No, no, no, no, no. It was faint, but it was still there. Whenever Geoffrey's upset it's a... thing on the side of my head. It was definitely you." He asserted, and Chancy shook his head.

"No-"

"Yes, it was!." He grabbed Chancy by his shoulders. "What's wrong? Why have you been so sad?" He was genuinely concerned, Arthur could tell, and Chancy seemed to have gotten the message too. The blonde, nevertheless, shook his head slowly.

"But I'm fine." He stated, Davie making a face. The frenchman made the same face back, the two staring each other in the eyes until Davie sighed.

"Then," he shook his hands free from Chancy's and placed a hand on his face, his thumbs sweeping across the soft pale skin. "Why were you crying just now?" Arthur felt a tug on his sleeve, turning to see Alfred trying to lead them out of the room unnoticed. The brit hissed at him, wanting to be nosey. Chancy tried to pull away, but Davie cupped his cheeks firmly, forcing the other to look him in the eye. For a moment Arthur thought the other was squeezing too hard, the smaller one's face getting red. However, when he heard the other whine in defeat, he knew Chancy was just getting emotional. The frenchman wrapped his arms around Davie's neck and jumped so that the other could carry him. After hooking his arms underneath the omega, Davie turned to Arthur and Alfred, an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, we'll be going." He slunk out of the room, ignoring the disappointed look in Alfred's eyes.

"I hate them together." He muttered, Arthur turning to look at him incredulously. What?

"They're perfect together!" The englishman was suddenly on the defensive. Alfred looked surprised, but he shook his head.

"I know he's your friend, and he was a big help when we were looking for you, but Chancy's a brat." He deadpanned. "Davie just wanted to be a good mate and ask Chancy what was wrong, and he got all angry. You never act like that." He walked over to the bed and flopped down. Arthur walked over to the door and closed it.

"I disagree." Arthur stated bluntly. "You're making these conclusions on what? One argument? I was ready to leave you after you had ripped my dress, if anything I'm more difficult." He pointed out. "Furthermore, you have no idea why Chancy was acting up just now." Alfred scoffed.

"Davie tells me everything." He said simply. "Like you, I know of all the fights. Chancy asks for something, and when he doesn't get it, he starts to cry. Once that doesn't work, he attempts to distance himself until he gets over it. Of course Davie forces him to come to terms with the reality: that no means no and that he can't have everything-"

"Chancy had stopped doing that." Arthur snapped. "He was only upset today because he felt... guilty for something." He said vaguely. Alfred hummed, and Arthur shook his head. "It's not my place to say. It's nothing too devastating, and I doubt Davie will have trouble seeing his point of view on things."

"Whatever." Alfred rolled over. "And as for you, yeah you have a lot of baggage." He stood up, approaching the omega. Arthur turned to face him, frowning. "And you are very entitled, self-righteous. At times inconsiderate and narrow minded; naive, foolish even. Not the most physically capable and are a perpetual liar." He stopped just in front of the brit. "But I love you, so it doesn't matter." He pursed his lips, allowing the brit to glare at him for a moment. The englishman frowned, each insult knocking his self-esteem down a notch because they were arguably true. Eventually he decided to laugh it off, offering the other a pained smile.

"Okay, if you loving me can be enough to overlook all... of that." Arthur swallowed harshly. "Davie loving Chancy should be more than enough to overlook the occassional tantrum." Alfred sighed in acceptance.

"Good point." He pulled the other in for a kiss, Arthur purposely not moving his lips. Alfred pulled away, not making anything of it, grabbing the omega's wrist and walking towards the door. "We need to check if they're alive."

* * *

 **2 hours later...**

Arthur didn't even know where to start, it was all happening so fast. Arnold and the Queen were shaking hands as he quaked in the background. Alfred was currently embracing him, whispering to him sweet nothings in order to calm him down. "Relax babe, it's exactly how we said it would be." The omega was panting wildly, shaking his head.

"I can't breathe." He whispered hoarsely, looking past the prince only to make eye contact with the queen, whose piercing blue eyes burned threatened to burn holes through him. He made a pathetic sound before pulling away, looking at his alpha with pleading eyes. "Please do something! I can't!" He was on the verge of tears, Alfred looking overwhelmed, before nodding dumbly, turning to face his mother.

"Mother, I trust you've been well." He said stifly as he took in her appearance. She wore an elaborate red and gold dress. Arthur was sure the design was very detailed, however his vision was coming in and out of focus so often that he could hardly see it. The woman of his nightmares was finally before him, and it was all so overwhelming that he could hardly stand. He gripped the back of his lover's coat, the prince making a surprised noise.

"Well," The Queen said smoothly, Arthur forcing himself to stand straight beside his prince. "I see what you mean, he _does_ look ill." She said slowly, something in her eyes glittering. She knows the truth, she can smell the fear. "Before you run off to get some rest, I would like to further apologize on Sir Livingston's behalf; throwing a shield in unheard of." Arthur lifted his skirt a little as he bowed.

"Pleasure to make your aquaintance." He was impressed with how calm he sounded, when he rose his head he could see the confusion in her eyes.

"You really _are_ a male." She sounded so... disbelieving. Arthur snapped his head to the side, offering out a hand, momentarily forgetting his fear in his own offense.

"Oh... Yes, born and raised." Alfred cleared his throat as the Queen chuckled.

"My apologies. Alfred had told me your gender, but... you look so feminine." She 'apologized'. Arthur hardly saw that as an apology, that was an insult.

"No need, honest mistake." Arthur smiled, touching the bandages wrapped around his head; thank goodness he had kept them on. The woman began to circle around him, the brit making an almost inaudible squeak of renewed fear. He clenched his jaw in an attempt to look sound, begging for this introduction to be over. "Do you mind my asking of what matters you were tending to while away?" He needed to make this less awkward. The Queen hummed for a long time.

"No, not at all." She said finally, a bright smile on her slightly wrinkled face. "I would love to tell you over tea. Right now, actually." She offered out her elbow, Arthur staring at it only for a moment before courageously hooking it with his. They walked a few feet until the Queen stopped, turning around to face her son and Arnold. "You boys don't mind, do you?" Alfred's eyes widened considerable before settling on a sly smile.

"Of course not mother. Just be sure not to not do anything rigorous, he's healing." He instructed, and his mother nodded.

"I'll take good care of him."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

"Need not be so tense." She said as she sipped from her cup. "There's no poison in that cup." Her brown curls cascaded down to her chubby waist, her chubby hand placing the cup on the table. Arthur chuckled slightly, taking a long sip of the beverage. The tea was actually quite good, humming in surprise and delight. "Good, yes?"

"Yes." Arthur said with a sigh, placing on the table as well. The queen hummed, her cold blue eyes analyzing him. Arthur made sure to make eye contact when he can, wanting to at least come across that he wasn't afraid of her. He was deathly afraid, but he didn't want to leave the room feeling as if he had blown it.

"He was right." He heard her whisper, and he quirked a brow in silent question. She smirked. "You are beautiful." Arthur felt his cheeks heat up, lifting a dainty hand to hide his embarrassment.

"Thank you. You too, look stunning today. The embroidery on your dress really stands out." He complimented, the queen smiling in gratitude.

"Thank you, but let's get down to business." She said bluntly, Arthur biting his lip in anticipation. "How much will it take to get you away from my son?" She asked bitterly. Arthur wondered which approach he should take: respectful, or snarky. He'll try being respectful first.

"I have no ulterior motives in wanting to marry your son. We love each-" He was cut off by hysterical laughter, the queen bent over in amusement. He waited for her to calm down. She eventually sat up and wiped a tear away.

"We all know British people don't have hearts." She chuckled breathlessly. Arthur blinked at her a few times before clearing his throat.

"I assure you, we British folk are just like everybody else. We get happy, we get sad, and we feel love towards our families and friends." His voice remained even, trying to conjure up his best Alfred impression. The queen shook her head.

"No, that's impossible. It's just a clever rouse, I assure you." She sighed, taking a bite out of a cracker. "I'm just surprised that Alfred had chosen a demon like yourself to show interest in." Demon? Whoa, that wasn't very classy. Saying that in letters is one thing, but calling him that outright was just... rude. The queen seemed to read his mind, rolling her eyes. "I have no reason to treat you as a human being, seeing that your kind couldn't find a reason in your hearts to treat my husband like such." She spat in disgust.

"I sincerely apologize on the behalf of Britain for what had happened to your husband." He said softly. "But surely you can't belive the actions of a few represent the character of the whole. What the Kirklands did was-"

"You mean yourself included, yes? Alfred had already informed me of the letter between Sir Arnold and my husband. You sneaky twigs, you brits." She rubbed her eyes. "Just looking at you disgusts me, do they not feed you on the island?" She asked, Arthur looking down at his figure in shock.

"Actually, no, not in the tunnels they don't. Your troops took most of the good lands." He answered. She shrugged.

"Good men need to eat."

"Unfortunately, all the good men are starving." Arthur shot back politley. "And as for how much it'll take for me to leave Alfred; I would consider it if you can bring back all the precious lives of my people you have stolen unjustly. That doesn't seem to be possible, unfortunately for you." He picked up his tea cup, taking a sip. "This is very good tea indeed." The Queen growled.

"Don't you dare try and sound righteous, you villainous whore!" She stood up. "My son has too high a standard to actually marry you, yet alone mate you." Arthur smirked.

"Ohohoho," He laughed, tugging at his collar. "That is where you are wrong." She walked over to look at the other's neck, growling in disgust. Arthur looked up to see her eyes alight in rage, deep furrows above her eyebrows. Arthur soaked up her expression. "Like I said, he loves me. And he will continue to love me until the day he dies-" She swung her hand down, cracking the palm of it across his cheek.

"As the king of this land he can annul the matehood when he wishes, you are not even close to permanent!" Arthur smirked at her.

"Tsk Tsk. I somehow expected more from you. I don't know why I'm so surprise, the rubbish you spewed in your letters more than enough indication that you were an awful person." He sighed deeply. "To think Alfred was hopeful to have you approval. And to stoop so low as to strike me, appalling."

"Silence." She huffed, sitting down. "If you won't leave, I won't make you. However, consider yourself shunned." She declared, and the brit scowled at her.

"By whom?"

"By the country." She scoffed. Arthur laughing.

"If so, only until Alfred is king, then your words will mean nothing." He assured, and she swallowed harshly. "I don't know nor care how you preceive me, but just understand that I do truly love Alfred, and I only want to make him and myself happy." He informed. "I had just hoped that as a mother you would have the same interests as well."

"You know nothing of what it is to be a mother." She sighed. "You cannot be a queen, especially of the United States. You are British! The son of the British King! Are you insane, or do you just have a death wish? You were already taken before, do you want to be taken again? Because I can arrange that." Arthur clenched his jaw.

"With your influence, I don't doubt that for a second." He said softly. "But I doubt you will."

"Excuse me?"

"I know you love your sons, Alfred in particular." He started, waiting for the woman to disagree. She didn't. "You wouldn't want to cause unnecessary pain to Alfred, he's under enough pressure as it is."

"Brief pain now will save him from long lasting pain later." She proclaimed, Arthur shaking his head.

"That's the mantra of the corrupt." He sighed. "Tell me the truth. Did you not like me based solely on my ethnicity, or was there another reason?" The queen hummed for a while before shrugging.

"Like any mother, I would have preferred to have had a say," She confessed. "Or at least know who the person was my son was to mate with." Arthur stood up, offering out a hand.

"You can still get to know me." She scoffed, looking up at him with incredulous eyes. "As ridiculous as it may seem, we will be spending some time together, and there is no point in both of us being miserable. Alfred had said it himself that he wanted me to get along with you; I'm doing this for him." They made unbreaking eye contact for about 5 minutes until she sighed, taking his hand.

"If I still don't like you by the end of the month, you are as good as dead to me." She added. Arthur nodded numbly.

"Well then, this has been a meaningful talk."


	36. Chapter 36

**1 week later...**

 **Arthur's POV...**

He smiled thinly as the queen-mother hooked their elbows together, pulling him away from his group of friends. He turned around slightly to see the worried eyes of Chancy and Julia, somehow warning him to be polite. He had told the two all about the encounter, Julia dropping to her knees and thanking God the queen hadn't killed him on the spot. At the time Arthur had thought she was being dramatic, but since then Arthur had learned about her extensive rap sheet. Essentially, anyone who has ever gotten on her bad side either disappeared or ended up committing suicide. That would have been nice to know before he had sassed her, but since then they have spent at least an hour a day getting to know each other. There was no substantial progress.

"Did you have a good night's rest? You seem a little tired today." The woman had slight bags under her eyes dull blue eyes. Her hair was in a simple bun and her dress was a simple grey. they were currently walking through the Queen's personal garden, the bright flowers even brighter when near the stark color of her dress. The woman shrugged.

"I suppose so, but it could have been better." She groaned. "I believe I need a new mattress." She speculated.

"Did you inform anyone?" Arthur asked, bending down to look at some pretty pink flowers. "What kind of flowers are these?" He looked up at the queen expectantly. Her cold gray eyes brightened.

"I haven't a clue." She shrugged. "This garden is mine only in name, I never tend to it." She confessed, Arthur making a noise of amusement. "Ask the gardener over there." She instructed, pointing to a man who was currently hunched over a bed of roses. He looked awfully busy.

"Are you sure? He looks quite busy." Arthur stood up. The queen-mother nodded. He bit his lip as he approached the other. "Excuse me, sir?" The brit called softly once he was close enough. The man turned around with a frown before recognizing the woman standing beside him, instantly breaking into a smile.

"Yes? How may I help you?" He asked in a thick Irish accent. He had deep indigo eyes and dark blond/light brown hair. He had deep set wrinkles around his eyes, which looked dull as if he too had little sleep. Arthur had introduced himself, the other looking oddly familiar. The man bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet the prince's mate finally. He has told me a lot about you. My name is Alroy O'Donoghue." He offered out a hand, Arthur gasping in realization.

"That's why you look so familiar! You're Davie's father." He smiled brightly as he shook his hand, the queen-mother discreetly pinching his arm. What? He looked over to the gardener to see his eyes darken as he cleared his throat. "Is something the matter?" Arthur asked slowly, the gardener nodding his head.

"Davie's not my son." Arthur furrowed his brows, about to apologize until the gardener continued. "At least not anymore." Arthur pursed his lips together, suddenly remembering Davie had cut communication with his parents. He apologized quickly, but the gardener smiled at him, shaking his head. "You couldn't have known, I mean, why would he tell anyone he made his mother cry?" Though he was smiling, Arthur could see the pain in his eyes. "Why would he tell anyone that his mother has been crying everyday since he had chosen his mate over his family? He doesn't care, so why would he let anyone know?" He dropped to his knees, Arthur plopping down beside him, feeling awful.

"I'm so sorry. Uh... if you have anything you'd like me to tell Davie on your behalf, I'd do it." He offered, the gardener looking at him with weather eyes.

"Really?" He asked, confused. "Aren't you folk supposed to be awful?" He continued, Arthur pursing his lip in a tight smile. "The British have been nothing but enemies to the Irish." He explained, Arthur nodding.

"I'm well aware of the crimes of my people." He conceded, tilting his head to the side. "For what it's worth, I don't think ethnicity, race or religion should be used to justify inhumane treatment of others, and that what happened in Ireland was a tremendous tragedy." The gardener nodded in agreeance. "Well, then." Arthur sighed. "What's your message? Surely you have one." The gardener nodded.

"Quite a few."

~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~

Arthur had dragged the Queen-mother along with him on his quest to deliver a message to Davie. The queen, who was sighing in reluctance the whole time, was trying to convince the brit to stay out of family matters. Arthur refused, the old man was close to tears, and it was his fault. On the way, Arthur had run into Chancy and Julia, who were standing in front of Davie's surgery door. The two blonds bowed, the Queen and Arthur bowing back.

"Did you two enjoy your walk?" Julia asked, pushing a long strand of wavy hair back. The pair nodded, the queen speaking up.

"We had a nice conversation with the palace gardener." She spoke, grabbing the attention of the French Ambassador. The queen-mother didn't think anything of it, not even knowing who was the mate of her beloved Davie. "He was reduced to shambles because his son had cut communication. My dear friend Alva has been crying every night. However, I don't doubt whoever Davie has mated with must be the fairest of them all, if he was willing to abandon his parents so quickly." She turned her attention to the Frenchman, whose expression was suspiciously blank. "Like you, for instance." Chancy looked up at her in shock. "Someone as pretty as you can easily steal a man away from his family, be he married or a Catholic." She smirked, her eyes knowing. Chancy thanked her.

"Thank you, your highness. However, may I inquire why you two have left the garden so soon? The flowers are in bloom, I would imagine you would want to bask in it for a little while more." His eyes were cold as he gazed at the queen-mother, who smiled.

"Arthur offered to carry a message from Davie's father to Davie." Chancy slowly turned his gaze to Arthur, who was rocking back and forth.

"I can explain, I will explain, and I-"

"Why must you explain yourself?" The queen asked, confused, she looked at the trio of blondes. Arthur sighed, looking at Chancy, who was still glaring at him.

"I," The frenchman started, releasing a heavy sigh. "Am the mate that stole Davie away from his parents." He muttered, turning to the queen, offering a hand. "My name is Chancy Lafayette." The Queen-mother took his hand with a wide smile.

"Well, I guess I was right about you." She said lightly. "Well, You should join us as we relay the message. You may too, Julia, for we are all friends." She offered, Julia shaking her head rapidly.

"I apologize but I had prior commitments that I should get going to." She excused herself, bowing and rushing off. The door suddenly swung open, Davie removing his surgical mask. His shirt was caked in blood and his hands were a little pink. He looked confused, looking around for someone.

"Hello." He bowed quickly. "Do you guys know where Julia went?" The queen nodded.

"She had just left, she has other commitments." She answered, walking towards Davie, who stepped back and began to close the door.

"If you'd excuse me for a moment while I tidy up."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Davie hadn't said a word since the message was relayed, looking down at his flower samples. What Arthur had thought was blood stains was just red flower extract mixed with a syrup-like substance. Chancy looked extremely uncomfortable, pacing around the room, humming a tune. Arthur cleared his throat.

"Do you have a repl-"

"No." Davie said softly. "You don't need to concern yourself with this, it'll only add to your burdens." He sounded apologetic, as if it were his fault.

" _Davie, are you okay?_ " Arthur asked in Irish, the doctor stiffening before turning in his chair slightly to face the other.

" _Yes._ " He answered back. The Queen was staring at the brit in shock, not knowing he spoke any other language. _"I made a choice that I still stand by today._ " He muttered. _"It wasn't easy, but I... it was worth it._ "

" _He said your mother is crying everyday._ " Arthur added. Davie bit his lip, unsure of what to say. " _Maybe that's who you've been feeling when you accused Chancy of being miserable_." Davie shrugged.

" _I guess, but the presence is getting weaker._ " He said slowly. " _Our bond is breaking._ " Arthur could only nod.

 _"You know Chancy's willing to suffer through your mother's nagging, right?_ " Arthur asked. " _He doesn't mind being a little annoyed if it means that you can still keep your bond_." The brit didn't personally agree, but he knew Chancy would want to see Davie smile more than anything. Davie nodded.

 _"I know, but I don't want them bothering him, or our child, with their negativity._ " He muttered. " _The pain is numbing, eventually, it won't even matter._ " He said sternly. " _And I can tell by the look in your eyes you think I did the right thing by leaving my parents. Alfred, though he's not a fan of my relationship, told me that what I did was justified. Francis and Matthew were the ones who even walked me through the steps of breaking off things with my parents. Since nobody minds, I think you should let it go. If you need to tell them anything, tell them to move on_." He turned back to his desk. "That's all I have to say, Artie." He said in English, the brit sighing in defeat.

"Okay."

"Thanks, though. For trying." Davie offered.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

"That wasn't very successful." The queen muttered, Arthur humming in agreement. "However, I had no idea you spoke another language." Arthur turned to her before smiling brightly.

"I'm practically omnilingual." The Queen rolled her eyes.

"How many languages do you speak?" Arthur shrugged.

"I don't remember." Arthur confessed. "Whenever I hear a language, it just comes back to me, and I can communicate. Years of schooling, and I can hardly manifest it when I want to because of a decade of turmoil." He complained, the queen chuckling.

"Whatever." She said simply. "It's a good thing your father used his wealth to educate you. I wouldn't want a stupid son-in-law." Arthur scrunched up his nose.

"Oh, have you accepted me into the family yet~?" He teased, the queen releasing an annoyed hum.

"No, not yet." She muttered. "But there are worse things."

* * *

 **2 days later...**

 **Alfred's POV...**

He hadn't seen Arthur all day, the brit insisting to stay in his room because he wasn't feeling well. Alfred did what little he could to diagnose Arthur himself, the brit not showing any signs of ailments. Before he had gotten a chance to ask why he was really going to stay in all day, John had knocked on the door and told him more arrangements for the coronation needed to be done, and that he needed to be present. He left the brit with a brief kiss, the other hardly moving his lips in return. Alfred had smirked at the now many times the brit has done that, but on the inside he felt a jab at his heart. He really doesn't know what he's doing wrong, but since he couldn't feel any anger emitting from the brit, he figured everything was alright.

"Alfred." The prince stopped at the stern voice, turning slowly to face his mother.

"Yes mother?" Alfred sighed. It was getting late and he missed his omega. The Queen quirked a brow at him, her long grey dress dragging behind her. The collar was low hanging and black, a bit of her cleavage making an appearance. Alfred averted his eyes. "You're in your fifties." He stated bluntly, his mother humming.

"Yet I still look 30." She praised herself. More like 39, Alfred thought, but he kept his mouth shut. "Where is Arthur? I've been searching for the last 3 hours." She complained. Alfred licked his lip.

"Is he not in his room?" The prince asked, the queen shaking her head. Hmm, then where was he? "When did you check?" The queen hummed.

"About an hour ago."

"Did you check the gardens?" She nodded. "Did you check Davie's room?"

"No, but I had both Davie and his mate assist in my search for him." Hmm, so they didn't know.

"Did you ask any guards to find him?" Alfred asked,now a little concerned. She scoffed.

"Are you out of your mind? They'd only panic because he had just been returned from a kidnapping." She shot. Alfred groaned, she was right. It'll prove unnecessarily stressful to alert the palace if the brit was truly just taking a walk. But what if he wasn't? Alfred shook his head. His mother just didn't look hard enough.

"Maybe he's with John?" Alfred suggested, his mother shaking her head. "Then his father?" She made a brief humming sound.

"I didn't think about Arnold." The pair changed their direction towards the east wing, where special guests stay. Alfred was unsure of which room was Arnold, not being over in over 2 weeks. The pair hummed in confusion until they heard a door open. They turned to Arnold leave his room, Arthur walking next to him, head pressed against the other's chest. The brits were whispering something, small sniffles audible. He glanced down at the queen who had a slightly concerned face. "Arthur!" She said rather aggressively, the blonds turning around in shock. "Where have you been?" She ordered, marching over to them, the prince following as well. The closer the prince got, the clearer the situation became.

"O-o-oh, uh," the brit's voice was light as he looked down, not making eye contact with any of the Americans. He had no shoes on, and he was still wearing his pajamas, which was just an over sized t-shirt that stopped at his knees. Did he really leave the room like that? Alfred recognized the jacket draped over the other, Arnold at least providing some decency. The brit's hair was disheveled, and his eyes were red and puffy. Was he crying? The prince hadn't noticed any discrepancies throughout the day, everything felt neutral.

"Arthur?" He took a step closer to the omega, who shrunk into his father in retreat. Alfred stopped, staring at his lover in shock. "What's wrong?" Arthur bit his lip, searching the ground. "Arthur?" After a long awkward moment of no reply, Arnold cleared his throat.

"Your highnesses," He started, grabbing the attention of the Americans. "Arthur here has requested to spend the night in my room-"

"What?!" Alfred put his hands on his hips, chuckling threateningly. Arnold smiled thinly.

"He has his reasons, and I assure you, the matters have nothing to do with you." His voice was tight, before turning his attention to the queen. "Or you."

"Then what are his reasons?" The queen asked, the man smirking.

"They are of a personal matter." He offered, Alfred staring holes into the other. He was furious, and he could tell by the way his omega tensed up that he could sense it. "I'm sure Arthur will tell later, but for tonight, he prefers to talk about it with me."

"I need my things." Arthur whispered to his father, the old man nodding.

"We must go-"

"Get his things?" Alfred's voice was soft and seemingly understanding, a warm smile on his face. He approached once more, and the brit didn't react, allowing him to get closer. Once arm's width apart, only then could Arthur feel the animosity the prince was concealing, stumbling back. The prince, grabbed his wrist before he can get any further, pulling the other closer. "If it's only one night, all you'll need is an outfit, right?" The brit didn't make eye contact. "Look at me." He hissed, the brit shaking his head. The prince felt his heart drop, but his resolve didn't falter.

"Alfred, unhand him." His mother said, grabbing his forearm. "It's only a night with his father. If you want, you can spend the night with me." She offered. Alfred turned to look at her in shock, her eyes looking at the brit with curiosity. "Let go of him. Let's take a walk."

~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~

Alfred ended up not spending the night with his mother, not willing to let her see him possibly cry. First with the not kissing back, now not sleeping in the same room. The brit wouldn't even tell him why. He wouldn't even look him in the eyes! He groaned as he forced himself to get out of bed, heading to the bathroom to get ready. He brushed his teeth, washed his face and fixed his hair. He may be falling apart on the inside, but he can't look that way on the outside. He left the room and began to pull out some clothes, debating about what he should wear that day. He was in the mood for black, but he didn't want people to think he was in mourning. He was, but he didn't want people to think he was.

As he was about to pick a color, there was a knock on the door, the prince galring at it. He knew it was Arthur, he could feel him. He was only in his underwear, but he answered the door anyway, making sure to wait a little bit so he didn't look too desperate. The brit was looking down at his shoes silently, he too still being in his pajamas. The outfit he selected yesterday was in his hands, but he hadn't put them on. "Yes?" Alfred asked coldly, wanting the other to know that he was still angry and hadn't forgiven him yet. Arthur bowed, still not looking at him. "Look at me." The prince ordered, the brit walking past him and into the room. The prince closed the door, turning and grabbing hold of the brit's waist, pulling him closer, gently scenting him.

"I'm sorry." Arthur whispered. The prince can smell traces of Arnold on him, two probably very close last night.

"I don't forgive you." Alfred deadpanned, pulling away. He could feel a pang at the back of his head, that last statement really hurting the other. He hummed, turning the other around to face him. The brit was close to tears, a small hand reaching up and wiping at his eyes. Something about him seemed a little broken, out of place. Arthur was fine two nights ago, what happened to him? "Are you okay?" He asked softly, the brit looking up at him for the first time, shaking his head. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry." He apologized, the prince waving his hand, repeating the question. "It was just a dream." He confessed. "A nightmare really." He buried his nose in the other's chest. Alfred led him to the bed. "I-I just needed to be with someone who would understand." His wet eyes searched the room.

"Understand what?" Alfred brushed a strand of hair behind his head. Arthur swallowed, a few tears spilling.

"The tunnels. England in general." Alfred knew of the tunnels, he had never personally went there, and he had made an effort to not ask the other about it. From what he did collect from the fortress maids at the time is that the tunnels are an awful place of confusion and gang activity; a gigantic grave. For a while Alfred had thought it was exaggerated because of how sound Arthur was, figuring anyone who had lived through such a hard conditions for three years would have gone insane.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Arthur pursed his lips, eyes darkening.

"I actually don't want to relive those memories." His voice was soft. "No amount of cliffs can amount to the things I went through there." He flopped down onto the bed, rolling onto his side. "I only came back to apologize, and stay in here for the rest of the day. Tell your mother I'm sorry for worrying her." He muttered. Alfred shook his head, not willing to leave his mate in such a miserable state. He climbed in beside him.

"I'm sorry you had to go through... whatever you went through." He mumbled. "It probably means nothing coming from me, considering I was leading the entire assault for a while." Arthur didn't respond. "For the last year and a half we've been trying to get people out of the tunnels and back on farms. We've rebuilt some infrastructure and we've provided towns with some funds to start building up their institutions again."

"What are you getting at?" Arthur asked sharply. "That everything that I and others went through is okay now because you made some superficial repairs on the things you've broken?" The prince hummed, figuring the other would be angry.

"No." He said simply. "I'm sorry if it came across like that." He looked up at the ceiling. If he leaves it like this, things will only get worse. "While I was looking for you," He started. "John came to talk to me because he said that you were more likely to choose your brothers over me. He said that he wanted me to mentally prepare myself for this because I'm already... emotionally stunted."

"So?" Arthur asked, not caring.

"So~," Alfred continued. "He accused me of wanting to be with you because of how mentally strong you are. He called me selfish and weak." There was an awkward pause, Arthur turning around to face him. His eyes were looking up at him knowingly, brows knitted in challenge. Ohohoho, he didn't want him to say it out loud. "John was wrong." he said bluntly. "You and I have the same emotional capacity, we just refuse to deal with our issues. We never learned how to cope."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not saying this to get you upset." Alfred hummed, looking down at the other a smiling. "I just want you to know, just in case you don't, that everything you've been through is still weighing on your shoulders, and until you properly-"

"I don't need this." Arthur cut him off. "I don't want you finish, okay? I'm tired, and I'm sad-"

"So you're just going to sleep it off? You can keep trying to bury your feelings, force yourself to make happy ones, but until you can look back at the bad times without running for the hills, you'll never escape them." Alfred advised. "I realise that it's ridiculous coming from me." Arthur stared at him for a while, before rolling his eyes.

"Yes, but I'd prefer to talk about them when I'm ready." He spat, and Alfred shrugged.

"You don't even need to talk about them." Alfred yawned. "As long as you can find some sort of closure, the-"

"Closure?" Arthur scoffed. "How-"

"You can successfully evacuate the tunnels and provide aid. Make sure no one else goes through what you did." Alfred yawned again. "We're getting married, therefore you have a new set of tools that were never at your disposal. You have the power to defeat the beast, so to speak." Arthur had a pensive face. "Or, if that's too complicated, just talk about it." There was a long pause before Arthur climbed over on top of the other, resting his cheek on his pectoral.

"I would love to do both, eventually." He sighed. Alfred ran a hand through his hair.

"We will, we'll both get closure." There was a long silence before Arthur looked up at him.

"I just realized you meant your memory." He said with a blush. "I was so confused for a good minute, you kept kept calling yourself emotionally stunted, but it's making sense now." Alfred chuckled softly, kissing him sweetly.

"I mean... my memory isn't my priority anymore. Right now it's getting you situated, getting crowned, and meeting my son." He mumbled. Arthur frowned.

"Don't give up just yet." He mumbled. "That's most of your life out of the window, the crucial developmental years of your life. We need to get your memory-"

"You're just curious as to how I might change once I get it back." Alfred accused, surprised at his own harsh tone. Arthur went silent, looking down.

"No, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind." He whispered. "Actually... the thought had _never_ crossed my mind. What i-if you get your memory back and you're not the same?" He sounded worried.

"It should be fine." Alfred shrugged. "I mean, yeah childhood's important, but I can't just erase everything I've been through since then." They shared a kiss, Arthur gazing into his eyes.

"Promise if you get your memory back you'll still love me." He whispered, Alfred smiling in shock.

"I promise." He said firmly, their lips connecting once more.

~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~

 **2 days later...**

Alfred was unsure as to why there was a big feast today, there was nothing special going. The hall was nevertheless packed, his mother raising her cup high and starting a toast. "Hello, all!" She said loudly, the crowd cheering at her. Alfred yawned, tuning out her little delegation. He looked to his left and saw his brother, who was picking at his food lazily; he was hungover. He could see Francis next to him, who was next to Chancy, who was next to Davie, who was next to Marshall, who was next to Julia, who was next to Isabelle, who sat next to Clarke and so on so forth. To his right he had Arthur, who was eyeing the queen with untrusting eyes. Beside him was the queen, who was standing up. Next to her was Anabelle and Thomas, the pair wearing awful hats. Next to them were Mary and Jorge, and so on so forth.

He took a deep breath as he drank some of his wine. He prayed this wouldn't be a long speech. He prayed he wouldn't have to _give_ a speech. He groaned softly, looking over at his mate. Arthur now looked like a deer caught in headlights as he gazed down at his food, Alfred a little confused. He began to pay attention to his mother's speech. "When I first met this gentleman, I thought he was vermon." Alfred coughed harshly, sitting up straight. He was about to protest when Arthur shot him a look, telling him to relax. "I thought that, because of his background: the son of the last reigning monarch of Britain, that he was just an opportunist, a man with no heart. I thought he was threat to my son, and my husband's legacy." She stuck out her hand for Arthur to take, and the brit, with pursed lips, took it hesitantly. "I have finally come to realize I was wrong."

Alfred couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did his mother just...?

"I was wrong to assume that he would leech off of the U.S crown. I was especially wrong in assuming he was useless. " She turned to face the brit, motioning him to stand up. He did, straightening his dress out. "Which is why I, Queen Martha, formally accept your engagement with my son, Crown Prince Alfred Fitzgerald Jones." She enveloped the other in a hug, and Arthur stood there like a statue, the most adorably dumb face Alfred had ever seen on him. Eventually he hugged back, the room cheering, Matthew breaking out of his haze and clapping the loudest. Alfred's mother looked over at him, mouthing the words 'come'. The prince rose slowly, unsure whether this was a trap or not, and he moved to his mother's right side, Arthur moving to her left. She turned to the crowd. "These two will be your rulers, and they will spawn this country the beautiful children of unity."

* * *

 **1 week later...**

Alfred wouldn't let go, which was perhaps the most annoying part of this situation. Arthur was in desperate need of a nap, the sweltering heat wearing him out. It was far too hot to have skin contact, yet here the other was, cuddling up against him. He whimpered in protest, trying to push him away. The man refused to, in fact, he only more vehemently draped himself over the other.

"Alfie, I'm begging you, please stop, we have a meeting in an hour." Arthur begged, the prince chuckling. "Please, it's too hot." He whined.

"If you sleep in this heat, you won't wake up when the wedding planner comes." Alfred kissed his cheek, the brit growling as he thrashed, trying to get away. It was this moment did Arthur realize how strong the other was, his unbreaking yet gentle grip on his body making it impossible to escape.

"Let your mother decide for me then." Arthur offered. Yes, he did say let the queen mother do it. A week before she had held a feast with most of the people in the palace and formally approved or Arthur's existence in her son's life. Now, she did make it clear that she still hated Arthur, and British people, but she had deemed him harmless. The brit wasn't complaining, working night and day to get her approval. Now that it has finally paid off, Alfred had dragged her into the loop of wedding planning. The first meeting they had included her in was yesterday and it lead to her changing almost every single decision the couple had agreed upon.

The wedding was no longer going to be indoors, but outdoors. Arthur was no longer going to wear pants, but instead a dress. The cake would be chocolate instead of vanilla, and the flowers were going to be a compilation of every state flower to signify 'America.' Just thinking about it made his blood boil, which only made his situation more uncomfortable. Alfred could sense his unhappiness, and he nuzzled him. "What up?" He asked, the brit frowning. Where should he start?

"Today we're choosing the dress." Arthur huffed. "Make sure you, when you get asked which one you like, you choose mine." The brit instructed, the prince shaking his head.

"I won't be there. It's bad luck to see the dress." Arthur stared at him.

"So what are you going to do?" The brit asked, now truly upset.

"Prepare for the coronation, get the goody bags in order, and find you the best goddamn ring in the country." He sounded excited. "We're all going: Me, and Davie, and Marshie, and Clark and Tommie. Jorge's busy today, but he promised to start the list of who's coming and who's not." That sounded like fun, but...

"How long will you be gone?" Arthur asked, the prince humming. After a few moments of humming, Arthur turned to look the other in the eyes, which were searching the ceiling in anxiety. "Alfred?" The prince eventually looked at him with puppy eyes.

"At the least... 3 days-"

"At the least!?" Arthur shot up. Three whole days at the least? That's ridiculous, considering he could find all those things in the capital city. "You don't even need to leave the palace to get that done, and you can have a ring handcarved in 6 days! Where are you going?" Alfred sat up too, pouting his lips as he stared at Arthur with doe eyes. The brit felt uncomfortable under the unusual pleading look. If anything, if this trip was really necessary, Alfred would have just told him that. Why did he look as if he was about to beg?

"Please!"

Arthur looked at him in shock. He was begging, wow. "Ohohoho, now I really know this isn't any sort of preparation. What are you going to be doing?" He asked, the prince frowning in offense.

"I'll have you know that this is indeed preparation for something... a-and I can't get everything from the palace. What if I want some authentic New York merchandise to give to the wedding guests? I can't get that here in the DMV." He retorted, Arthur glaring at him.

"What's this trip preparing you for? What are you going to do?" He watched as the prince chewed his lip in confliction. He eventually sighed, resting his face on his hand.

"It's a bachelor getaway." He mumbled. "It's preparing me for an eternity of marriage." Arthur frowned. A bachelor party?

"Those get insanely wild, Alfred." The brit scowled. Alfred shaking his head.

"Clarke isn't a big drinker, he'll watch over us. We'll be fine!" He had found new life, bouncing on his knees. "After I get the stuff we'll need, we'll head to this lodge on the countryside and spend a day or two." Arthur nodded. Clarke wasn't a big drinker at all, and he was quite responsible. He groaned.

"When were you planning to leave?" He asked softly, the prince smiling widely.

"This afternoon."

"Would you go if I said no?" Arthur asked, arms folded. There was just something about it that seemed so off. Alfred's smile dropped as he pursed his lip.

"If you began to cry, I'd be obligated to stay. But I really wanna go!" He kowtowed, his forehead pressed against the mattress got a few inches from Arthur's knees. The brit was once again shocked.

"You, Alfred F. Jones, are actually kowtowing to me? I'll be damned!" Arthur laughed, lying back down. "As long as you don't hurt yourself... or cheat on me, I'll guess it'll be fine if you go." He relented, suppressing a smile as the other pounced on him, kissing him and chanting 'I love you!' over and over again.


	37. Chapter 37

**A few hours later...**

 **Arthur's POV..**.

He huffed as he stared at his reflection, pursing his lips. The dress was all white, even the wide crinoline he was wearing underneathe was bleached. The base of the dress was rather wide, and the this cage didn't make him look as if he had a wasp's behind. The crinoline was cone shaped, straight as it got wider the opening. The white cloth was silk-like, and the drapery over it was lace. His corset was far too tight, the seamstress having laced it to the top. His cheeks were quite red as he struggled to breathe, but the ridiculously large white ruffley hat made it hard for the other's to see his face. His sleeves were equally as ruffley, and they loosened into stray pieces of cloth at the openings.

"I hate it." He deadpanned, the queen-mother ignoring him entirely as she began to speak to the seamstress, telling her what to add and what to take away. He glared down at his feet, muttering to himself. None of his friends were available today, so he was stuck with the queen, who was taking Arthur's vision and destroying it. he grabbed the hat and set it aside gently. He hiked up his shirt, ready to remove the crinoline himself.

"What are you doing?" The queen snapped. "Stop misbehaving." Arthur glanced at her in time to see her shoo at him, continuing her grown up conversation with the seamstress. The seamstress looked very old, around 60 the brit would guess. The detailing on this dress was done by a master, however, it didn't suit his tastes.

"I don't want to wear this dress." He was addressing the seamstress directly, who looked at him confused.

"But it looks so good with your pale skin." She wore a slight frown. Arthur bowed apologetically.

"Perhaps you have something more embroidered? I do enjoy the lace drapery." He requested, and the seamstress looked over at the queen-mother, who shook her head.

"Don't listen to him. This dress is fit for a queen." Arthur felt his eyes burn. Was she really going to disregard him? The two had begun talking again, and Arthur stood there awkwardly in his frustrations. He huffed.

"I am the one who has to go down the aisle with a dress." He interrupted, grabbing the attention of the two older women. "I didn't even want to wear a dress, but if I have to, I want to pick it myself." He was standing up for himself, Alfred would be proud. The queen tilted her head.

"No." She said bluntly, catching the brit off guard. "I like this dress, Alfred would like this dress, the royals will like this dress- this dress is perfect. The drapery is the hottest trend of the season." Her eyes looked at him in a way that warned him not to interfere, as if he was the one imposing.

"But-"

"Arthur." She said sharply. "Stop it. Go into the dressing room and have the maid remove your corset. We need to resize it." She ordered, the brit staring at her wide eyed. How... dare she? He walked into the dressing room, the maid, who had heard the entire conversation, smiling weakly at him. She unlaced him without a word. Is the queen just gonna dictate the entire wedding? Arthur groaned loudly. He doubted he could handle this any longer. Once he was undressed he put on his regular clothes, deciding he has had enough. He left the room, ignoring the confused faces of the older women.

"Your majesty?" Asked the seamstress, and Arthur stopped, suddenly feeling guilty. It wasn't her fault... but...

"I don't like the dress." He deadpanned, the queen opening her mouth, the brit cutting her off. "I said I don't like it, so I won't wear it. Until you can provide a dress we both like, I will no longer be in need of your services." He turned with a huff, marching out of the room. He walked down the hall, ignoring the whispers of the maids in the hall. Arthur didn't mind, he was quite used to the secret glares, the quiet snarls, and the sharp insults. He figured it would be better to just pretend it never happened so his self esteem wouldn't plummet.

He made it to his room without any accidents, and he opened the door and walked in, sealing it behind him. Arthur looked the room to be in slight disorder, noises coming from the bathroom. "Alfred?" he asked softly, flopping down onto the mattress.

"Yes. Arthur," Alfred left the bathroom, blue eyes narrowing at him. "Shouldn't you be dress shopping?" He walked over to a drawer, removing a few shirts. Arthur groaned.

"When I told her I hated the dress, she told me that the only thing that matters is whether she and the other monarchs like it." Alfred took a seat on the bed, placing a hand on his thigh. "Every dress I found somewhat pretty, she would shoot it down and choose the ugliest dress."

"Maybe you can reach a compromise?" He suggested. "I mean, it's just a dress." Arthur felt his eye twitch in annoyance, but he didn't want to argue over his wedding day attire.

"I did, but she refused." He ran his hand through his head. "So I told her that if I don't like the dress, I won't wear it." Alfred hummed in amusement, the brit feeling his lips tug. "What?" Alfred stood up walking away with a smile on his face.

"She's heading over right now." He put the shirts in a satchel. There was a brief knock on the door, the prince opening the door and stepping to the side to make way for his mother. The queen looked annoyed, and a little angry. Arthur looked up as he yawned.

"Arthur Pendragon III, you are being tremendously irrational." She took a seat beside the brit. "This dress isn't about you, it's about the world. You need to leave a good impression on the world on your wedding day. Besides, it looks beautiful on you." She reasoned, and Arthur pouted.

"I know it's not about me on the grand scale of things," He sat up, lightly twirling his hair. "But on a smaller scale it is about me, because it's my wedding day. On your wedding day, who chose your dress?" Arthur tilted his head to the side, analyzing the way the queen frowned at the memory.

"My mother had chosen my dress." She retorted. "And, unfortunately, since your mother is not with us, I am taking on the role. It's tradition." Arthur scowled.

"Did you like your dress? I hate mine." He mumbled, the queen shaking her head.

"I hated the dress, but there was no point in fighting because it would only be for one night-"

"The most important night of my life. Your highness, please-" He was interrupted by stark laughter from the prince, who was turned around and packing his clothes. There was an awkward silence as he continued to laugh, the brit rolling his eyes, watching the other. The queen also decided to stare holes into the back of the prince's head. After a good 2 minutes the prince stopped, sighing in satisfaction.

"Just compromise." He said sternly. "Find something with lots of drapery," The brit frowned, about to protest when the other continued. "But has a lot of lace, and sheer fabric so Arthur could breath. It's not too difficult, is it? You guys are just so stubborn." He stood up, his bag slung over his shoulder. He approached the two, kissing his mother on the forehead, and kissing Arthur on the lips. "I have to go now, Clarke's probably waiting for me. I trust that when I came back, Chancy will tell me that the dress has a little bit of the both of you in it." He began to walk over to the door, the brit reaching his hand out but slowly, but pulling it back.

"Be careful." He he said simply. "Please." He added, the prince stopping and smiling at him.

"I will, I promise." He kissed his hand, "Goodbye." He opened the door and left the room, never to return until about a week. Arthur deflated considerably, the queen staring at him.

"Why didn't you say it?" She asked, the brit looking up at her in confusion. "You obviously wanted to say something, you reached your arm out but you pulled it back. Why didn't you?" Arthur looked down for a moment.

"I was going to ask him to stay." He muttered. "But, it's been awhile since he's been so excited for something, so I decided against it. It wouldn't have been fair of me." The queen nodded.

"So you _can_ be rational." She teased, the brit smiling lightly.

"I going to miss him." He groaned. The queen patted his shoulder.

"Let's go for a walk in my garden." She stood up, offering a hand. The brit took it gladly, standing up and walking out of the room.

* * *

 **The 1 day later...**

"How about this dress?" The seamstress asked, exhausted. They have spent the last two days disagreeing about the dress, the two close to murder.

"I like it." The brit said.

"Well, I hate it. Next!" The queen commanded, the seamstress shuffling to get the next dress. She held it up, the two looking at it for a while. Arthur and the queen looked at each other, a wicked grin on their lips.

"I like the lace." The queen said softly.

"I like the drapery." The brit added.

"It's not too liberal." The queen said, looking at the sheer fabric at the back, which was embroidered with lace flowers.

"I love the flower pattern." Arthur stared at the dress, standing up to try it on. He took it gently and went into the changing room, a maid helping him try it on. The corset was quite tight, he had to admit, but the crinoline wasn't too big and he could move properly. The dress had a long train, the brit noticed as he walked out of the dressing room, showing off the dress to the queen. He stood in front of the mirror, analyzing the dress, the seamstress walking over with a smug smile and placing the matching veil on his head. He blushed.

"It's beautiful." They all said in unison, even the maid who helped the brit change. Arthur was blushing bright red, the embroidery, the style, how breathable it was... it was perfect. He loved this dress.

"I want this one." He turned to face the queen-mother with pleading eyes, shocked to see that her eyes were wet. He scrambled over to her as best he could, taking her hand. "What's wrong? Do you not like it?" He was very worried, this dress was the only one they could all agree on. The queen nodded.

"This is the dress I had requested for my own wedding day." She sighed. "Oh, so many years ago. I'm glad someone will finally wear it." She chuckled, the brit smiling. He kissed both her cheeks, in thanks, turning to the seamstress. "We'll take this one."

* * *

 **The next day...**

"Believe me when I tell you, the dress was beautiful." He said excitedly, Chancy, Mary and Julia smiling excitedly. One of the palace ward's, Julius, was playing with baby Geoffrey. For the last day, Julius has been accompanying Arthur while Alfred was away, the little boy no more than four years old. The small child had blond curly hair, and warm brown eyes, his tan skin covered in faded bruises. Looking at them made his mood damper a bit. To be a ward of the palace you must be... for the lack of a better word, confiscated from an abusive family. Then, they live in the palace until they are 8, when they are put to be an apprentice to a skilled worker in the capital city. There was a network of professions linked up to this program to help the abused kids, such as bakers, blacksmiths, sometimes even the occasional knight. Julius stood up and limped over to the brit, who scooped him up and put him on his lap.

"This is great." Mary spoke. "The wedding is about week away. Did you choose your coronation dress?" She asked, the brit shaking his head.

"I've left that up to my father and the queen. They know me well enough." He said softly, Julius touching his hair. Arthur's been growing out his hair, which grew unnaturally fast. "Besides, I don't want to argue anymore, it's my father's turn." The circle chuckled, Geoffrey laughing the loudest. He was crawling on his mother's mattress, the group deciding to convene in his room. When his father wasn't around, Geoffrey proved to be quite the wild child, laughing at anything and refusing to sleep. He didn't cry though, which was nice. But because both his parents worked, he was often babysat by Julia, Mary and Arthur. However, Chancy was feeling a bit ill today, so he took the day off.

"The boys need to come home soon. The kids miss them." Julia changed the subject, the brit nodding. Arthur didn't have any kids, yet, but he did miss Alfred terribly. They all missed their husbands, with the exception of Mary, whose husband stayed behind. After the first night, they all just decided to sleep in Alfred's room, deeming it the most comfortable way to sleep when their husbands weren't there.

"I'll go call for lunch." Arthur said, standing up. Geoffrey had somehow latched himself onto his shirt, the brit scrambling to grab him before he fell. He did, miraculously, the baby giggling wildly. Arthur just decided to go with him, the walk not going to take a long time. However, he made Julius stay behind and take a nap, his limp making him unable to go.

"Be careful." Chancy said nonchalantly, the brit nodded, knowing full well, Chancy wasn't nonchalant about it. "Oh, and can you ask, for seedless grapes. And eggs."

"Yea."

"Oh, and coffee." Julia added.

"And some dessert." Mary added, the brit nodding. He left the room, making his way down the hall. He made his way to the kitchens, quite the endeavor when the palace of this size has no directions. He placed the order, and requested it to be sent to Davie's room. He made his way back, ignoring the throb of his cheek as he was slapped by the baby continuously. He sighed heavily, knocking on the door as he began to tickle Geoffrey, the infant squealing. The girls let him in, the brit carefully passing the baby to Mary. She lifted him and began to sing to him in spanish.

Once the food had arrived they ate it quickly, sipping on tea silently afterwards. Arthur opted to sit on the ground now, resting his head on Mary's lap as Julius rested his head on his breast. Julia was holding Geoffrey and Chancy was in his bed, yawning, obviously tired. However, none of them had the energy to excuse themselves and leave the other to sleep peacefully, the trio just talking in soft whispers. "I can't wait for the coronation, the prettiest people are going to come." Julia said softly.

"Have you guys met any of the foreign aristocrats?"

"Do you count?" Mary snickered, and Arthur shook his head. "Well, I've met one of the Italian princes and his Spanish husband, the king of spain. They were hanging out with King Francis and the Prussian Prince, Gilbert. Of course, that was before the whole... marriage situation." She shivered. "It all happened so fast."

"What really happened? Were you there?" The two women nodded.

"It happened at Alfred's private birthday dinner." Mary answered. "Gilbert sat beside Prince Ivan instead of his friends and brother, and his father came in and formally announced the arrangement. Ludwig was livid, drinks were thrown, and Alfred had to personally escort the Russian prince out of the room. It was awful." Arthur frowned, never knowing Alfred was there. He never asked, though, so it was on him.

"I doubt Prince Ivan initiated the engagement." Arthur said, knowingly, running a hand through Julius's hair. "I never met him, but I think most people want to choose who they marry." The girls nodded, Julia scratching her head.

"He looked just as shocked, if I remember correctly." She yawned. "He had this whole back and forth with his father, only Gilbert seemed calm. I mean, he was trying not to cry, but I think his father had told him beforehand." Arthur narrowed his eyes. He could never really know the full story.

"Well, eventually I'll make acquaintance with them within the week." He shrugged. "Maybe we could be friends..."

* * *

 **2 days later...**

The coronation was in 5 days, the wedding was in 6. However, Alfred and his companions were nowhere to be found. Arthur can't remember asking the prince how long he'd be out at the most. He frowned, pacing the solar nervously. Alfred needs to be here, really, he does. The brit didn't want to stress out, or exhaust himself for the baby's sake, or Julius's, but now he was very worried. Was he safe? Is he lost? Arthur shook his head. He needed to stay positive. Arnold and the queen-mother were watching him walk, Arthur unsure of whether they found this amusing, or pathetic.

"Your highness," The brit spoke breathless, rushing over to her, stumbling and falling to his knees. He didn't bother picking himself up. "How long was your husband's bachelor getaway? Was it this long?" The queen pursed her lips in deep thought while offering the other a hand. The englishman took it and pulled himself up, looking at her desperately.

"His lasted almost a week and a half." She answered. Arthur sighed, so Alfred was okay. "But," She continued. "He had been home days before the coronation, almost a week. Alfred should be back by now." Arthur took a deep breath, exhaling shakily.

"I think i'm gonna be sick. I'm going to my room." He said suddenly, rushing out of the room and down the hall, not even greeting his friends as he passed them. When he got into his room, he slammed the door shut, making his way into the bathroom. He thought he had needed to vomit, however, the urge was no longer over taking him. He walked over to his bed and buried himself within the blankets, wallowing in self pity. Where was he? He should be here by now. Arthur couldn't even sense him, he was miles away. There was suddenly a soft knock, Arthur huffing as he stood up. He walked over to the door and opened it, only to find no one there. The knocking noise was still happening, so he looked down the hall, perhaps it was knocking on the other door. None of the doors had anyone by them, so Arthur closed his eyes, deeming it his imagination.

However the knocking sound kept happening, and now it was annoying. He looked around the room. "Where on earth can it be co-AHH!" He jumped onto his bed, backing away from his window. "Wh-what? What d-do you want?" Arthur panted, panic rising. It was the minotaur from many weeks ago, the one who broke down the door and had mail. He was currently on the other side of his window, only his face visible because of how big he was. The creature was probably heavy, how did he climb up to the 6 story window? The minotaur's black eyes stared at him.

"I have a message from the council." He said politely. Arthur slowly walked over to the window, hand shaking as he opened up the window. The minotaur tilted his head forward, as he was about to jut forward. Arthur scrambled back, a scream at the back of his throat when he noticed a package tied to his horn. "Please take it. I have more mail to deliver." Arthur took it gently so not to hurt the other.

"Thank you." He said meekly. Before the Minotaur can leave, Arthur rested his hand on his head, out of sheer curiosity. It was soft, like yak fur, and it was tangled. The beast made a surprised noise, but he didn't pull away. "What's your name?" Arthur asked softly. The creature's black eyes looked up at him slowly.

"I do not have one." He said flatly. Arthur frowned, everyone should have a name.

"Do you want a name?" The brit asked nervously, the minotaur staring at him for a moment before clearing his throat.

"I don't care for one, but if you would prefer to call me something, you can." He deadpanned. Arthur hummed. Arthur breathed in deeply with his nose, his nose bombarded with the smell of tea. His favorite tea. Arthur smiled devilishly.

"How about Earl Grey? Or just Earl." The minotaur hummed.

"That's my favorite tea." He said flatly. "Alright then. My name is Earl Grey, what might yours be?" Arthur blushed.

"Oh, how rude of me! My name is Arthur Pendragon, or Kirkland. But... you knew that already, didn't you?" Arthur smiled, and the beast nodded.

"How else would I deliver the mail? I must be off. Excuse me." Arthur was about to invite him in, so he could take the stairs, but the creature just jumped, passing through the canopy and landing somewhere the brit couldn't see.

"Earl." he whispered to himself. He turned his attention to the package in his hand. He read the label.

 _Arthur Kirkland,_

 _From Salvator Fulgur._

"Hmm" Arthur sat down on his bed, analyzing the box. It was fairly large, about 1 foot by 2 feet. It was quite heavy, about Geoffrey's weight. It was black, and there were markings on it. Most people wouldn't be able to read it, but Arthur could understand. 'I wish you well in passing' it said over and over again. There seemed to be no way to open it. No lid, no nothing, it was completely seal. Now how was he supposed to open it? A hammer?

~~~Wounded Knight~~~

After hours of tugging on it, hitting it, and just holding it, the box remained closed. Arthur sighed, defeated, putting it under his bed. He'll just ask Chancy about it later. Arthur stood up, walking towards his door, planning to go for a walk with Julius. As he swung it open he was greeted with John, who looked as if he was poised to knock. He cleared his throat, chuckling slightly. Arthur narrowed his eyes at him.

"I was just going for a walk. Would you like to accompany me?" The brit offered. John nodded. The two walked in silence for a while, making their way to the public garden. "You were coming to see me, yes?" Arthur asked. John pursed his lips.

"Ah, yes e-er..." He hesitated. Did he come with bad news? "The prince's company came back." Arthur gasped in excitement, about to turn heel and run to the main entrance. However, John grabbed him by the wrist to stop him. "Alfred's been sent to the infirmary."

"What?!" Arthur pulled away from the other, about to rush off again, until john stopped him once more.

"It's nothing too bad, it's just... Davie suspects he has gone insane. Alfred doesn't recognize him. He had woken up in the middle of the night confused as to who they were, and why he was out there. I don't think he'll recognize you." John looked pained. "And I think he'll be scared if you came to him suddenly referring to yourself as his mate." Arthur was at a loss for words. How should he react in a situation like this? Can he even do anything?

"Why...?" He didn't finish, but John knew what he meant.

"The boys said nothing traumatic happened, and that he had just woken up that way. I don't know why, no one does." Arthur began to pant.

"Does he recognize his mother? Anyone?" He was so confused. Why was this happening? All of the pieces were finally falling into place, why was this happening? John shook his head slowly.

"He doesn't even recognize Matthew." Arthur stared at the older man, eyes watering. He shook his head wildly.

"I'm going to see him." He declared, walking off.

~~~Wounded Knight~~~

He knocked on the door and opened it himself, not caring for formalities. Alfred was looking up at the ceiling bored as people shuffled around him. His mother was in tears, Davie just about everyone else seemed depressed, shooting Arthur sympathetic looks. Oh god, this is really happening. Oh god, oh n-

"Hi dude!" Alfred said suddenly, everyone looking at him in shock. His features were suddenly animated, a bright warm smile, and bright eyes. The queen-mother stood up suddenly, rushing over to the prince.

"Do you remember him?!" She shrieked, Alfred shooting her an uncomfortable but cheery look.

"Of, course, ma'am. And can I request you keep your voice low, you're kinda killing the vibe." He whispered the last part, and Arthur released a relieved cry as he rushed over to his mate. He threw himself onto the other, who hugged him back, a little confused. "Are you okay?" He asked suddenly. Arthur sat back, confused.

"Are you?" Alfred chuckled.

"Of course dude!" He laughed loudly, playfully punching Arthur's shoulder. Arthur stared at him in silence. He was more than out of the ordinary, he was the complete opposite. 'Dude' and 'hi' and the play hitting? Where the hell was the actual Alfred? This man was way too happy, too cheery, too- "You're kinda creeping me out, Artie. Stop staring at me." He ordered, a bit of his normal tone coming back. Arthur ignored him though.

"What's your name?" Arthur asked suddenly. If he didn't remember his mother, then did he really know who he really was? Alfred looked at him in confusion, a small smirk gracing his lips.

"Oh C'mon!" He laughed. "There has to be a harder question you can think of." He tapped Arthur's head for emphasis. The brit grabbed his hand and held it, dragging it toward his chest. He shook his head as his eyes watered. Alfred stopped smiling looking at the other in concern. "It's me... Alan."

* * *

 **1 day later...**

Arthur was no longer feeling as if he was about to die, but he was this close to killing Alan. "I won't repeat myself," Arthur threatened. "Where's Alfred?" Alan rolled his eyes, smiling widely as he took hold of Arthur's hips. The brit found the act a little inappropriate considering it wasn't really Alfred, but at the same time, it was the real real Alfred. His subconscious. His most concentrated form. Alfred was authentically annoying. Alan kissed his forehead, Arthur feeling a little guilty. Alan seemed to sense this, and he pulled away.

"I said it already. He's digging around for his memories." He paused, holding onto his side in pain. Arthur held onto him, walking him over to the bed to sit. The other has been feeling random pains for the last day, but they had a reason. The more Alfred unlocked about his past, the more he absorbs Alan into his personality. In turn, Alan is essentially being eaten alive, but he didn't seem to mind. "He'll be a whole new man when he comes back." He groaned. Arthur sat next to him.

"If you had spent majority of your time with me," Arthur started to blush, the other looking at him with a small smile. "How do you think it would have gone?" He mumbled, Alan smirking.

"I think it would have gone smoother." He admitted. "Alfred did his best, but with key instincts missing, he had a few blind spots. I would have also spoiled you more, laughed more, had waaaayyyy more sex with you." Arthur blushed, looking down at his lap. "But I think the result would have been the same. We would be getting ready for our wedding. We'd be in love." He said softly. Arthur felt his heart throb for the entity. His life was a mystery, and his only experiences outside was spotted with pain.

"Wanna go on a date?" Arthur offered, and Alan shrugged.

"Will it end in sex?" Arthur bit his lip. He was Alfred, and he and Alfred were going to become one... "Is that a Yes?" Arthur sighed.

"I dunno, will Alfred remember it ever happening?" Arthur didn't want to be so near sighted. If this really was considered cheating... He groaned. "Actually, I don't care. It probably won't end in sex." Alan sighed, disappointed.

"Well then, why not? I'll go on a date with you."

~~~Wounded Knight~~~

"How did it all happen?" Arthur asked, and Alan sighed.

"Well, it all started about a month ago. I came to him one night and told him the truth." He paused. "About everything: his memories, his accident. I knew from the beginning, but he couldn't remember because he was still actively suppressing it. When I told him, he didn't want to believe me, he didn't like the truth and so he deemed it a lie. However, last night, and I made sure to do it after he had bought all his stuff," He smiled and Arthur smirked. "I told him again. This time he was waayy more willing to comply because... what did he say? Something about not being able to learn how to cope with you. I don't know, but I guess it makes sense to you."

Arthur smiled. It made sense to him indeed. Arthur had just thought it was just another of their bizarre conversations, he didn't know Alfred was serious about developing together. He suddenly felt grateful. "Continue."

"That's it." He shrugged. "He accepted, so now he is briefly reliving the memories. He should be done by morning. He and I shall be one by morning." He humphed. "Sounds weird when I put it that way. In a sense, I'll remain out here, but it'll no longer be a fight between a more dominant conscious and a more submissive one." Arthur nodded, kind of understanding.

"This doesn't happen with normal people." Arthur said softly. Alan laughed loudly.

"Blame the palace sorcerer for tearing us apart." He said dryly. Arthur's eyebrows shot up.

"The palace sorcerer did this to you?!" Alan nodded calmly.

"It was the only way to save us at the time. We were supposed to reunite naturally, later. However," he said darkly, "She didn't take into account how domineering Alfred was. He had majority of the mind, and majority of the traits. She performed whatever she did incorrectly, and we were, as a result, unequal parts." Arthur nodded, understanding.

"I still haven't met this sorcerer." He said sweetly. Alan shrugged.

"She's probably in India right now, finding some more herbs." The brit nodded.

"Well I'm sorry you went through... whatever it was you went. You deserve better." Arthur said solemnly. Alan shrugged.

"The pieces are falling into place now, so it's okay." He said lightly. "I can't wait for the merger, I want to become one again." He genuinely looked excited. His eyes were bright, his smile was wide, and his just came across as hopeful. He was hopeful about the future. Just like Arthur.

~~~Wounded Knight~~~

 **That night...**

The pair snuggled in together, Arthur sighing. He was going to miss the constant happiness of the other. Alan was so carefree and fun, he almost wished he and Alfred were two different people so he couldn spend more time with them. Arthur gave the other a parting kiss on the cheek, knowing that by morning, the other wouldn't be there. It was the least he could do. "AWW. You are so cute!"

"Shut it, you git." Arthur muttered, Alan laughing slowly before coming to a stop.

"You almost never call Alfred that." He said suddenly. "Do you even insult him? I think you've insulted me more in the 2 days we've had together than the 7 months you've known Alfred." Before Arthur could argue, the other continued. "I'm flattered. You should try being this casual with him though. Us, really." He went on. "We'll appreciate the sincerity. It'll never get old." Arthur stared at him for a while before smiling, blowing out the candle and snuggling in.

"I promise, for your sake." Arthur whispered. Alan sat up suddenly, Arthur gazing at his figure in confusion. The man suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder and pressed his lips against Arthur's. The brit was shocked, to say the least, but he didn't pull away, a sense of urgency washing over them. The other seemed desperate, a little needed, but not to the point of insinuating sex. He just wanted the experience, Arthur guessed. It was innocent. They eventually pulled away from each other, panted, Alan burying his nose in the other's glands. Arthur couldn't help but flinch, momentarily doubting his earlier assumptions. However, it went no further than scenting, Arthur scenting the other back. To his shock, Alan didn't smell exactly like Alfred. In addition to the ocean and steel, he smelled like... fresh grain? Why did he smell like oatmeal? Arthur decided not to dwell on it.

No need to.


	38. Chapter 38

**That morning...**

Arthur opened his eyes slowly, expecting to see his mate beside him. However, his mate was nowhere to be seen. He groaned, he was a little too fatigued to actually get out of bed, hopefully the other was alright. He was about to settle back to sleep when he heard a muffled noise coming from the bathroom. He stared at the other room. "Alfred?" He called out softly, the muffling noise stopping. The brit sat up slowly as footsteps became louder, the unknown person walking out of the bathroom. "Alfie?" He said even softer. The first thing he saw was familiar wheat blond hair, and ocean blue eyes peaking out from around the door frame. They made intense eye contact before the other retreated his head, returning into the bathroom. Arthur was puzzled. He slowly slunk out of bed, not caring about his revealing outfit.

It was a simple grey lace nightgown that stopped by his thighs. The ground was cold as he stepped his way to the bathroom, making sure to stay on alert. "Hey, Alfred?" He said softly once more. "What are you doing?" Arthur was nearing the bathroom as the other stepped out, the omega jumping back in slight shock. Alfred stared at his face before glancing down before he averted his eyes. "Alfie?" Arthur took a step closer, the prince turning his head to look anywhere else. Arthur grabbed hold of his chest, pulling the other in. "Love?" The prince's cheeks were red, Arthur has never seen him like this.

"Arthur, can you put some clothes on?" He said finally, the brit smiling in excitement. He was okay!

"Thank goodness you're okay!" He pounced on the other, the prince grabbing onto his thighs to keep him upright. Arthur felt his heart flutter as the other gently kissed his forehead. "I love you." He whispered. "I missed you." Arthur hadn't noticed the other was moving him until he was placed gently on the bed, the prince's eyes gazing down at him.

"If you won't dress up, go back to bed, I'll make less noise." He said softly. The brit looked down at his outfit; he had slept in more revealing things before. Hell, Alfred loved to see him naked. The realization suddenly dawned on him: this wasn't the exact same Alfred he's known for the last few months, but rather a modified version. Arthur was unsure of how stark a change it would be, considering Alan said Alfred made up majority of the conscious, which was why he took over. Arthur was intruiged to get to know his new mate.

"Do you still go by Alfred? Or is it Alan now?" he asked sweetly, and the prince frowned.

"You should sleep in a little longer." He advised, the brit pouting. "Don't argue with me on this." He bent down and kissed the other lightly. "I scheduled a meeting for today, and I set up some security around your room. Don't leave." He ordered. Arthur was confused.

"Security?" he sat up. "Why do I need security?" Alfred sighed, looking down at the other's body.

"I don't want anything to happen." He said simply, and now Arthur was very concerned. Was he in danger? The baby?

"Alfred," he grabbed hold of his shoulder. "What is the meaning of this? Why would anything happen?" Alfred pulled away, not answering. Arthur stared at him patiently. Eventually, Alfred groaned.

"I remember everything." He muttered. "We have some traitors among us."

* * *

It's been a few hours and Arthur was indeed not allowed out of the room. The guards outside his door would ignore him when he asked to leave, and when he had tried to just walk out, he was stopped and locked in his room. They wouldn't even let Julius in! Occasionally a maid would arrive and bring him food, one actually leaving him a coloring book to pass the time. So there he was, using red paint as he colored within the black line of the flower. He muttered to himself, wanting to know everything: about the other's past, who had betrayed him, and why he was so concerned for their safety.

Arthur flipped the page, frowning at the now blank canvas of a horse. "Oh god, when is he coming back?" Just then the door opened, and Alfred stepped inside, a deep scowl on his face. The brit stood up and practically catapulted himself at the other, the prince, despite his mood, smiling at the other.

"Did you miss me?" he teased, the brit pursing his lips.

"You wish." He chuckled, kissing the other's chin. "Bend down so I can kiss you." He ordered, the prince doing as he was told obediently. "Now," He continued, leading Alfred to the sofa. "What's going on? You left without telling me a thing." Alfred stroked his hand apologetically.

"I'm sorry. You must have been worried." He said softly. "It doesn't concern you. I've already taken care of it." He began undressing, the englishman a little baffled. "Just... I don't know, pretend it didn't happen." The prince suggested, the other standing up, suddenly upset. Was he supposed to suddenly get over his worry for the other? That was impossible. Arthur couldn't just forget, he wanted to know who had betrayed him.

"You're kidding, right?" He hissed, the other glancing at him briefly before continuing what he was doing. "You spent 2 days hunting your memories and the first thing you did was schedule a meeting. How can I not be curious?" Alfred slipped on a night shirt. "And why are you dressing for bed, it's only evening." The prince shrugged, approaching the heated omega slowly. Once he was close enough, he scooped the other up, nuzzling his cheek against the other's.

"You are cute when you're upset." He mocked, dropping the other on the bed. The brit allowed the other to hover over him for a moment, watching the American's eyes. He didn't seem himself, and not because he was fused with his subconscious or anything, but because he looked hurt, pained, emotionally that is. Arthur sighed.

"Alfie," He started, the other smiling down at him warmly. The brit faltered a bit, unsure of how to approach this. He just decided to go for it. "What did you do?" He asked, the prince offering a confused looked. The brit repeated himself. The prince sat down on the mattress, scratching the back of his head. "Are you okay?" Arthur sat up, reaching over to the other.

"I'm fine." He said curtly. "And I didn't do anything... yet." Arthur tilted his head, wanting him to elaborate. "I'm going to sentence a whole bunch of old cabinet members to death." The englishman thought for a moment. There are only 7 council members, 4 of which are Thomas's, Jorge's, Marshall's and Julia's fathers. Arthur looked up at the prince slowly. "They were there, Tommie, Jorge, Marshie and Julia. I didn't voice my decision, but even if I had, there's not much they could have done. Treason is treason." He groaned. "It bummed me out." Arthur shook his head.

"Can't you pardon them? Their fathers?" Arthur began to argue, Alfred biting his lip.

"Only Thomas's father is guilty. Jorge's, Marshie's and Julia's father will be fine. Tommie's father is the only traitor, along with a couple of old guys you've never met." He assured, and Arthur scowled.

"No, Thomas is one of your best friends. You can't-"

"But I have."

"You killed him!?"

"No." Alfred said, pulling away from the omega. "Don't yell. Relax, everything's fine." He yawned, glaring at him. "I didn't kill anyone, there still has to be a formal trial." He muttered. "It's not like I enjoy hurting people." he said suddenly, standing up and heading for the bathroom. The last statement caught the brit off guard, genuinely confused as to where the American would have thought he believed he enjoyed hurting others. The bathroom door slammed shut, the brit heading over to it, knocking firmly. "Go away." He muttered.

"No." Arthur said simply. "I'll stand out here all night if I have too. It'll be bad for my back, of course, and I'll be dead tired, but it'll all be worth it when you get out." He rambled, the prince sighing.

"I'll be out in a minute. Please just go away." The brit pretended to walk off, leaning against the wall. That way, when the prince opens the door, the brit can slide in and force the other to tell what's wrong. "I can tell you're still by the door." Said a soft voice. "Go wait by the bed or something." The brit groaned, walking over to the bed. He sat down on the mattress, annoyed as to how aggravating his life was. Today should be a happy day, the next day as well, and all the days after. Arthur looked down at his stomach, a stomach that would soon become inflated. He sighed happily.

"I wish he'd just tell me already." He said to his unborn child. "Your daddy's a serious man, who likes doing things all by himself. Your mommy... is the same actually." He said slowly. "I'm just as elusive as your daddy, and I do far more dangerous things." He went on. "He got his memory back, though. He doesn't trust your mommy with his past. That's fair, I suppose, because I don't trust him with mine very much either." The brit just now caught how hypocritical he was for demanding access to the other person's past whilst denying the other to do the same. "I would love to bargain with him. Memory for a memory."

Suddenly there was a soft hum vibrating through the room, Arthur snapping his head up to see Alfred standing by the bathroom door. He looked rather uncomfortable, and as he walked over to the bed, he stared down at the other's stomach. The brit scratched his head lightly. Eventually the American sat down beside him, releasing a deep sigh. "A memory for a memory?" He said softly. "I wouldn't mind."

* * *

"I told you it's not a fantastic story." Arthur sighed, rubbing the prince's chest in an attempt to calm him down. The prince was furious, face red and eyes bloodthirsty; the englishman could feel the murderous aura in waves. The brit sighed, he had only told the prince one of the less brutal stories. Suddenly a harsh growl started to erupt from the prince, the omega genuinely regretting even telling the other now. He sat up and crawled on top of the American. "Relax." He said softly, touching the other's face. "Relax, please. For me?" He rose the other's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it.

Alfred's eyes were red with rage, the blue orbs not focusing on Arthur but looking past him instead. The englishman forcibly put the other's nose near his glands to gain his attention, but the loud roar that erupted from the other made the brit pull away in shock. Alfred was shaking now, eyes dilating. The brit distanced himself from the other, offended. What right did he have to be angry? Arthur was the one who had to live through it. The brit rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"If you don't want to act your age, then so be it." Arthur huffed, climbing off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He slammed the door, turning only to his mild shock. The entire bathroom floor was replaced by a fuzzy yellow carpet. The brit stepped forward to feel it on the sole of his feet, frowning. It wasn't very comfortable. He slowly became nausous, a bad feeling in his stomach. He fell to knees, positioning himself in front of the bucket. Nothing. No vomit. He pulled at the carpet, surprised to feel the cold surface of the stone floor. He looked down at his hand, a ball of yellow... hair? "Ahh!" He shot up, fumbling out of the bathroom. What the hell happened in there? Arthur glanced at the bed to find Alfred gone, the brit turning in circles in shock. "Alfred!" There was no reply, the bad feeling in his stomach spreading into his chest, and his upper thighs.

Arthur rushed to his bed, throwing the covers over himself. What the hell is going on? Where's Alfred? Whose hair is that? The damn thing covered the entire bathroom floor! The englishman was afraid, the bad feeling that would often warn him telling him to hide, but if anything was actually after him, he wouldn't be able to hide for long. He was shaking now, whispering soft prayers. " _Oh God, protect me!_ " He said in Latin. " _Oh god-_ " The door busted open, and the brit screamed at the top of his lungs, pulling the covers off his head.

The visitor screamed back in equal shock. After a brief moment of confusion, Arthur recognized the guest to be the queen-mother, face red. Before he could question her, she yelled at the top of her lungs. "What did you do?!" She asked, stomping over and seizing the brit by the wrist. Arthur scowled at her as he was dragged from the bed.

"Where-"

"Alfred, What did you do to Alfred?!" She sounded desperate, and the englishman shook his head in confusion. "What did you do to him?!" She began to drag the other out of the room, Arthur yanking his arm back. He was still in his nightwear, she can't possibly believe that he could leave like this? However, for the first time Arthur witnessed the true strength of the queen, the woman squeezing his wrist to the point of almost fracturing it. She dragged him out of the room, the englishman screaming in protest.

"Let go of me!" He demanded. "I don't know what you're talking about! Guards!" He called out as he was lead to the stairs, but before he could get anyone's attention, the queen had taken him to her private study. Once in there, the brit didn't even have enough time to assess the room before he was thrown roughly to the floor, landing smack on his face. The queen kicked his ribs, Arthur screaming in shock.

"What have you done!?" She screamed, Arthur screaming back in confusion.

"W-what are-"

"Don't play stupid!" She kicked the other in the ribs once more, harder than before. Arthur coughed, the taste of blood in his mouth. "What did you do? What did you do?!" She kicked him again, Arthur crying out for help. After a few more powerful kicks, his vision began to blur with tears of pain. He could hardly breathe through his panting and screams, struggling to crawl away. The queen had momentarily stopped her assault, the brit seeing it as he only chance. His body was suddenly lead, his arms shaking. What was going on? W-why... W-why...

"What did I do?! W-why did y-you...?" He was sobbing now, curling in on himself. "W-where's A-alfred?" The queen stormed over to him and the poor omega screamed in terror, begging desperately. "P-please! please! Plea- Ahh!" She grabbed his hair, dragging him by it to the back of the solar, towards the bookcase. He squeezed his eyes shut, terrified for his life. He heard a clanking, scratching sound, the same sound metal would make when scratching another piece of metal, but of course much louder. He slowly looked up to discover the bookcase had moved and a dark corridor of steel was before him. He looked into the darkness, mildly confused. He was about to ask what was going on, but then a deep growl erupted from the tunnel, Arthur flinching.

He wasn't afraid of the growl, no, in fact he felt a strange kind of comfort. He whimpered pathetically, crying out when the queen-mother tugged on his hair. The brit has had enough. "Where's Alfred?" he demanded through his tears. "Where is he!?" The growling noise came closer, and the back of Arthur's head grew warm. "Alfred!?" He tried to turn his head to the front door of the solar, waiting for his mate to find him. "Alfred!?" There was a snarl coming from the corridor.

"ArThuR?" Said a distorted voice. A figured emerged from the darkness, a man, but he was still blanketed by the darkness. It was Alfred! The brit pried himself away from the queen, limping to his mate in fear. He threw himself into the other's arms, breathing in slowly. The smell, it was so familiar. He instantly calmed down a little bit. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, Arthur throwing his arm around the other's neck. The first thing the brit noticed was the intense body heat radiating off of the other. Then it was the layer of.. fur? The englishman looked up slowly, eyes watering in fear. Two glowing blue orbs stared down at him.

"T-the hair..." He whispered. "It's yours." He tried to pull away, but the other had a death grip on him. The poor omega began to panic. "Let go of me! Let go of me please!" He begged. This Alfred wasn't his Alfred. This Alfred wasn't even human. "Please!"

"ArtHuR," Said the deep voice of his mate. "I CAn explAin." He moaned desperately. The brit shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"NO NO NO NO! I DON'T KNOW YOU, GET AWAY FROM ME! YOU'RE NOT ALFRED! YOU'RE NOT MY MATE!" The brit went into a hysterics, screaming at the top of his lungs. The beast carrying him growled, throwing the brit over his shoulder. "LET GO! LET GO OF ME!" The englishman demanded, but the creature began walking deeper into the dark corridor. "W-what? Please, let me go!" he begged, but the man ignored him.

* * *

 **3 hours later...**

 **Alfred's POV...**

He watched as the brit rubbed at his eyes as he woke up, the omega having passed out on the way there. Alfred caressed his cheek, jerking his hand away when the other began to scream. The prince tried not to take it personal, but now the brit knew a portion of the truth. The love of his life was afraid of him. He bit his lip, leaving the room of his father's lair. This place used to be his father's whenever he needed to transform, so he'd be out of other people's way. Alfred would need to use this facility now, for the first time in over 9 years. It was a long, almost unbearable story, a story which Alfred hardly understood himself.

When he was ten, he and his mother had no idea why the king would sneak out every other night or so. It was only one night did Alfred decide to investigate, sure to find the king with another woman. He had wanted to find the king cheating, so he, Matthew and his mother could leave him and move to Canada. All the adoration Alfred had held for his father was replaced with hatred when he had gotten his memories back. He was abusive, rude, and overall not good enough for his mother; Alfred could never respect him.

He had snuck around the study for a while until he accidently bumped into the bookcase, the corridor revealing itself. He went in, of course, like the stupid child he was. He was met with the sight of a majestic wolf sleeping. The beast was huge, at least 2 meters tall, maybe even bigger. Alfred looked around the secret room. It was like an apartment: a living space, a dining table, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Why a wolf would need this, Alfred knew not, and he still knew not. To get to the point, the beast woke up, found Alfred hiding underneath the kitchen table, and gently pulled him out from under. It licked him, and cuddled him, but after a few hours, it tried to get him to leave. The prince of course did, not wanting to anger it.

Every other night since then he would go to the chamber and spend time with the beast, but always leaving before dawn. However, one night, he waited outside in the study to see what would happen. To say the least, he was more than shocked see his father walk out of the metal corridor. Alfred wasn't dumb, he may have been 10, but he could still point out the obvious. His father was the wolf. The king didn't take too kindly to this invasion of privacy, grabbing the little boy and...

"Alfred?"

He turned slowly to see his mate approaching cautiously. The prince was currently sitting on the extremely soft couch. "Yes?" he sighed, Arthur taking a seat beside him.

"What is this place?" He asked softly. The prince hummed.

"This is where my father used to go and... yeah." He said simply, Arthur glaring at him.

"You've been a... whatever it is you are, your whole life, but you've never told me?" He questioned, and the prince shook his head.

"I wasn't born like this." He said, albeit sadly. "I didn't even remember until I got my memories back. Once I did, this stupid curse came back." He huffed. "This only happens when I'm angry. I'm sorry." He apologized, unsure of what else to do. Arthur nodded slowly.

"I'm a witch." He said softly with a shrug. "So, if you're not human, what are you?" He smiled softly. Alfred hummed.

"A sort of Lycan, if I remember correctly." he mumbled. "I wasn't planning on telling you this anytime soon, to be honest. I just wanted to get my coronation and the wedding out of the way before I dropped a bomb this huge. I thought I could hide it, but then you told me about how they treated you in the tunnels and I lost it." The englishman looked at him for a moment before snickering. The prince was about to join him when the other winced, clutching his chest. "Artie?" he asked, placing his hand on the other's lap. "Artie!"

"I'm fine." he whispered. His voice was pained. "It's just..." He gripped his ribs, and the prince narrowed his eyes at the other. The American hooked the bottom of the other's shirt, relieved to face no resistance. He pulled up the shirt, shocked to see all of his chest reddening, some parts turning blue. Alfred had a million questions on his mind, the brit reading it. "It was your mother." He said softly. "She... was so angry. I had no idea what to do or say, she just wouldn't stop." He whispered. "The guards wouldn't come no matter how loud I screamed for help. I thought she was going to kill me."

"I'm sorry." The prince apologized, estimating the bruises. "I'm sorry." He repeated. "She probably doesn't know about me getting my memory back." Arthur nodded. There was an awkward silence, but the prince knew the other had a million questions. "Any questions?" He asked, and the brit blushed, nodding quickly.

"How did this happen?" he asked. Alfred bit his lip.

"My mother bit me." He said simply, the brit gasping. "He was a raging drunk, and even when sober, he had awful anger issues. One early morning, he grabbed me by my neck and threw me out of the 4th story window after I had found out his secret of being a lycan. My mother found me hours later, half dead. There was emergency surgery, but I had lost a lot of blood, I wouldn't have made it." He explained, the brit nodding along. "My father told my mother everything, and she forced him to bite her. Then, after she had turned, she had bitten me."

Arthur stroked his arm. "I am so sorry." He whispered. "But... why have you only turned now?"

"Because," He huffed. Seriously, he had thought it was obvious. "The palace sorcerer locked away my Lycan half. Now that it's unlocked, I'm cursed again."

"Oh..." he said softly. "Well, can you control it?" He asked stupidly. The prince rolled his eyes.

"If I could, this mess wouldn't have happened." He snapped, the brit growling at him lightly.

"Don't get snappy." He warned. "I may be pregnant, but I'll still kick your ass." The prince smiled despite himself, kissing his forehead. He stood up, walking towards the exit. "Wait! I have more questions!" The prince stopped and turned.

"We can discuss them on the way."

* * *

 **That night...**

"So he tried to kill you because you found out his true identity?" Arthur was mystified. "That's crazy. Wasn't he so kind as a wolf? Why was he so abusive as a human?" He asked, Alfred shrugging. The brit was asking him the wrong questions, there was no way he would know, how could he know whatever went on in his father's head.

"He was problematic." He muttered. "Thank goodness he's gone." He sighed. "Hopefully he's burning in hell." Arthur stroked his cheek.

"How does Thomas's father factor into this?" He asked, and Alfred huffed. Oh, we're going here now.

"Well, me turning into a lycan happened when I was ten. But remember I said I couldn't remember anything before 11 years old?" Arthur nodded. "He's why. He was the true reason why my memories were gone, he's the reason I was split in two." Alfred could feel his blood pressure begin to rise, the thought making him furious. He was able to live as a lycan for a year peacefully, but because of that bastard, he... he... "He, a number of other advisors and my Father had made an attempt on my life, Matthew's life, and my mother's life." Arthur gasped, shaking his head.

"You must be mistaken! Thomas's father is one of the kindest people I've ever met. He's almost like a father to you, he wouldn-"

"No, Arthur." His voice was heavy. "I'm not mistaken. Matthew was unconscious the entire time, but I was awake. I... I saw what they tried to do to my mother. What they were going to do to me, and Matthew." He bit his lip. "That man's a monster, just as bad as my father." He said boldly. The englishman shifted a bit, uncomfortable.

"What did they do?" He asked.

"Silver." Alfred looked towards the brit. "Silver gifts and poisons." Arthur looked confused. "They held her down and put silver jewelry on her, shoving herbs in her mouth. I'm not sure what it was, but smoke was coming out of her nostrils, and her eyes were bleeding. The silver was burning her too." He shivered. Her bloody cries were enough to make his eyes water, his 11 year old self bawling from his hiding place. He was discovered, dragged out, and suffered the same torture, the herbs going down his throat. It was Thomas's father who made him swallow the herbs, almost killing him. The prince tried to shift, but he couldn't, the herbs wouldn't allow him. Eventually some guards came, hearing the noise, and walked in on the assault. They quickly took the queen and prince to the infirmary, hid Matthew with the O'Donoghues, before they were sentenced to death, being framed for the attack. To counteract the effects of the poison in his blood, the palace sorcerer had split his being into two, so the effects would pass. It was supposed to be temporary, but they managed to remain split for 9 years.

"Then what happened?" Arthur asked, and Alfred shook his head.

"It's a long story." He began to say, but Arthur shook his head.

"Then make it short." He commanded.

"They found me, did the same to me, and almost killed me. The only way to counteract the poison was time, but I didn't have time. So, she split me up, locked away my Lycan half until the poison left my system, that way I wouldn't die." He summarized, the brit biting his lip, not really following. Alfred got annoyed. "It's not hard to follow, dammit! To not be affected by the poison, they got locked away my lycan half!" He yelled, Arthur pulling some strands of hair behind his ear.

"How did you escape?" he asked.

"Some guards found us. They're all dead though, my father accused them of the assault." He buried his face in his pillow. "Now they must die."


	39. Chapter 39

**Arthur's POV...**

 **A few hours later...**

He rubbed his eyes, the prince rambling as he got ready for his big day. It was very early morning, the sun wasn't even up yet. However, the international guests were now arriving, it would only be formal for the prince to greet them. Arthur groaned, beginning to crawl out of bed when the other stopped him. "Where are you going?" Alfred asked suddenly, the brit confused.

"I'm getting ready." He yawned. "To meet them." The prince smiled at him before telling him to get back to bed. "Why? I just need to wash my face." He protested weakly. Alfred shook his head.

"You can meet them all tonight." He assured. The American gently pushed Arthur back into bed. "Besides, you need to watch Julius." After a brief kiss, he tucked the other in successfully, smiling in triumph. Alfred bent forward and ran a hand through the blond curls of the sleeping toddler. The couple have become very fond of the little boy, so fond that Chancy was wondering if they were going to formally adopt him. At this point, Arthur didn't know. Alfred was unbelievably tender towards the boy, and when Arthur was busy with something, the American would jump at the chance to have Julius for the day. The brit would like to think the toddler saw them as more than just babysitters, but he didn't want to jump the crossbow and say the child saw them as parents. It has only really been a weak.

"I won't be able to sleep without you." Arthur argued playfully, and the prince hummed.

"You'll find a way." He chuckled.

"What if your mother comes back?" He questioned, and the prince stiffened.

"The moment you think you're in danger, come find me." He instructed, but that was much easier said than done. Arthur scoffed, and the prince hummed. "You have magic, dude." He sounded exasperated. "Throw something at her, or call for help. Whatever makes more sense at the moment."

"She can just tear out my throat bef-"

"I've never seen her kill anyone, she's not a fan of blood." The prince interupted. "She usually has other people to do that for her." Arthur shivered.

"Can you leave some guards at the door?" Alfred looked back at his semiconscious features.

"Of course." The prince went on with picking an outfit until there was a knock on the door. "Come in." He said simply, not even asking who it was. Arthur shrunk back as John walked in, looking wide awake and alert.

"Prince Alfred, a few more guests have arrived. They're in the lobby, and they're eager to go to bed." Alfred nodded.

"Whose here?"

"The Italian twins and their mates." John looked up at the ceiling. "The shogun of Japan's son in law... I forget his name, and his mate... the Archduke of Greece? At least I think that's who he is, I can't be too sure. The mexican representative, and the Turkish king have arrived, the Australian Prime minister tagging along with the Minister of New Zealand." He paused for a moment. "That's all I'm sure, for now at least. More boats are docking as we speak." Arthur was suddenly excited. He wanted to meet these people as soon as possible. He slowly pushed the covers off of himself, the prince not noticing his subtle movements. "It was quite a long journey, they are growing impatient for their rooming accommodations."

"Tell the maids to take their bags." Alfred ordered.

"I already have."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

 **Alfred's POV...**

He was lead by John to the double doors of the great hall, the American mentally preparing himself for everything for this early morning meeting. He yawned, disappointed that he could no longer control his fatigue. He snapped his fingers, the guards pushing open the door, the alpha now being able to hear the voices of his equals. As he entered, he took note of the small group, being a little larger than he had expected because John failed to mention the presence of the Chinese emperor and his entourage. The prince had managed to convince his mate to stay in the room, ensuring him that it was just a brief boring meeting and they wouldn't even remember it in the morning. As he approached the group, he realized Francis and Matthew were already there. The prince bit his lip. _Should_ he have brought Arthur?

"Hey." Matthew said informal, approaching his brother with open arms. They embraced, the beta smiling softly at him in excitement. "How are you feeling? Are you excited or anything?!" Alfred smiled widely under his brother's warm gaze, nodding wildly.

"It's surreal." He was then practically swarmed by the cluster of royals around his age, each congratulating him with bright smiles but tired eyes. They were all still dressed in their travelling clothes, and though Romano, the prince of Italy, was smiling, Alfred could sense his normal grumpiness returning. He turned his attention back to John, who was waiting there patiently for his next orders. "Send more guards to my room. Make sure no one gets in or out." He ordered, John nodding obediently, shuffling out of the room. When he turned back to the group, they all wore mischievous expressions, eyeing him knowingly. Yao, the emperor of Japan, spoke first.

"So," His eyes were blown out in shock. "The rumors are true aru." He tilted his head, and the prince shrugged, a slow blush spreading across his nose. The emperor was perhaps the smallest in the room, standing at a mere 5 feet and 4 inches. His black silky hair was pulled into a side ponytail, his grey traveller's suit a little dusty. "Someone has done the impossible." He sounded very mystified, a soft murmur erupting.

"Ve~" Feliciano, the crown prince of Italy started, a wide grin on his face. He was smiling so hard that Alfred could ghardly see his amber eyes, and his tanned cheeks were red with excitement. "What is he like?" Everyone nodded, wanting to know. Alffred stammered, unsure of how to respond. He hadn't expected the meeting to go like this, he expected it to be more formal. However, considering they were all the same age, and they were all pretty much friends, the meeting had turned into a gossip session. He hummed as he panicked, the French King Francis scoffing.

"Mon amie," He started, placing a hip on his waist, flipping his blonde hair. He and Matthew were dressed a little more formally because they didn't need to travel. He wore a simple blazer with black slacks, a sleevless purple tunic over his outfit. Matthew's wheat blond hair was combed back, and he wore a red shirt with brown pants, a red sleevless tunic over his outfit. "You can go hours talking about him. Start with his appearance." He suggested, and Matthew chuckled. Alfred nodded dumbly.

"Uh... He has shoulder length light blonde hair, that isn't straight, but isn't curly. It doesn't really have a texture, like, it's not wavy, but it's... messy. He has messy blond shoulder length hair." He started, the rooming eyeing him as they nodded. "He's pale, ohohoho he is very pale. So, like, whenever I upset him, he just turns into this red mess and flips out and curses." He chuckled to himself, before frowning. "However, if I take it too far, he starts to cry. He's kind off a baby. Umm...Oh yeah! He's British, and he's the son of King Uther Pendra-"

"What?" It was the Spanish King who interrupted him, Antonio Carriedo. His usual cheery face had morphed into one of skepticality, and annoyance... almost anger. His Green eyes were boring holes into Alfred, who stared back at him with equal intensity. Alfred sighed, shaking his head.

"There's no reason to be alarmed." He assured. "You'll love him. He doesn't live up to any stereotypes." He started, but the Spanish king scoffed. He then turned his sharp gaze towards the French King Francis, who looked away momentarily deep in thought.

"Mon Amie" Antonio said coldly, the Frenchman turning his attention to his bestfriend. "You knew about this? A surviving English royal?" Francis shrugged.

"The boy didn't even know he was royalty until his brothers-"

"Brothers?!" It was now Ludwig Beilschmidt, crown prince of Germany speaking, his stern voice booming. His blonde hair was slicked back and his deep blue eyes were piercing. His body was built like a brick house, the American sincerely curious about how much he can lift. He too looked skeptical, analyzing the situation in his head. "I assume you met him during your stay in England, then." He sounded tight. Alfred sighed, taking a random seat at any random table.

"I know, what you're getting at." He muttered. "But he's not a spy. He's nothing like that. He's beautiful, kind, and overall just a really great person to be around and you guys really have no reason to not trust him."

"Is that why you didn't bring him?" Kiku Honda, the shogun's son in law, said calculatingly. His short black bangs covered all of his forehead, his dark eyes robotic. Alfred stared off into space for a moment, losing his stoicism.

"I didn't bring him because not only is it too early in the morning, I figured this meeting would be boring and add unecessary stress to him on the eve of his wedding." He deadpanned, the group turning silent. Prince Romano suddenly wacked Antonio hard across the shoulder, whispering something to him. The Spanish King sighed, and then cleared his throat.

"I didn't mean to come across as accusatory." He said in a weak apology. "But, you understand our skepticism, si? Everyone in this room aided the fall of the British Empire, and you expect us not to expect the worse from him? It's unrealistic mijo." Alfred nodded, looking down at the table before him.

"I know it seems that way," He started. "But the last 7 months of my life have been the most bizarre experience I've ever been through. At this point, anything is possible." He said it more to himself than to the others, but when the Greco archduke patted his shoulder in support, he smiled. "Thanks Heracles" He mumbled.

"If it counts for anything," Francis said suddenly. "I absolutely adore him." He sighed fondly. The Turkish King Sadik Adnan cut the man off with a loud burp.

"When can we meet this englishman?" His green eyes sparkled in interest. Alfred hummed.

"In a few hours."

"Are you sure about that, Ve~?" Feli said, pointing at the entrance. Alfred began to pray. If Arthur was truly standing by the door, God really has foresaken him. The American slowly turned to see a half conscious Arthur trying to drag... a dog. It was a rather huge white fluffy dog that had decided to perch in front of the door of the Grand hall. Arthur was still in his nightgown, not even wearing shoes. He was muttering in another language, but by the way he was going about pulling the dog made it clear he had not noticed the band of royals.

Arthur scratched his head, groaning as he stormed out of the room, the giant dog still perched in his spot, panting. There was an awkward silence, no one sure as of what to do. The brit came back now, with a big black box, and put it in front of the dog. "Get in." He ordered. The dog glanced at him, then the box, then back at the brit, barking suddenly. Arthur jumped back in shock. "Get back in." He said again, before switching to an array of languages, one by one a royal behind Alfred gasped as he spoke in their native tongue. "I'm begging you, if anyone finds me out here they'll tell the queen-mother." He said desperately. "Do you want food?" He stood up, leaving the room again. Alfred turned back to his guests, who were all confused.

"Well," Heracles started. "He is very beautiful." Alfred groaned, approaching the dog. The white canine began to growl at him, the prince growling back. The white canine whimpered, quickly realizing the other as his master.

"Whose dog is this?" He asked, sitting himself by the animal and petting it. The dog seemed to be a Great Pyrenees. "How did you get in here?" he said in a squeaky voice, allowing the canine to lick him. The door creaked open as Arthur began to walk in, talking to someone.

"Earl, I am so serious." He said seriously. "I do not want it. Tell him to take it back... because it doesn't behave!" When Arthur saw the prince sitting next to the dog, the brit dropped his platter of meats in shock, rushing out of the room. Alfred stared at the door in disbelief, before calling for the guards.

"Find my mate and bring him here." He sighed, annoyed, walking back to the group. The royals looked thoroughly amused by the situation, perhaps not even tired anymore. "I swear, on a daily basis he's normal."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Arthur was now dressed properly in a blouse and trousers, looking down at nothing but the black box in his hand. Alfred was currently holding onto a sleeping Julius because he had mixed feelings about leaving him alone. All eyes were on him, the brit growling as the dog licked his cheeks. Alfred sighed. "What did you do?" He said bluntly, catching everyone in the room off guard, especially the brit, who eyed him.

"Uh... it's a really aggravatingly long story." He said simply. "But to keep it short, I was sent a dog, who broke out of the room. I don't know how it left, or how it got here. But... anyway, it doesn't matter now, because Earl is returning him." Alfred frowned at him. Who the hell is Earl?

"Whose Earl?" He asked, Arthur pursing his lips.

"The messenger for the council." He answered. Alfred stared at him in confusion before making the connection. The minotaur. So this had some magical aspect to it. The American groaned.

"Whatever." He said weakly, turning in his chair and standing up. He gently offered the toddler to the brit, who took him gingerly. "Won't you guys stay with my mate? I'll be right back." He said, leaving the room. Alfred was of course looking for this Earl character. He must still be here if he hadn't yet retrieved the dog. As he walked down the hall, he had realized what he had just done to his poor mate. He stopped. Should he turn back? For all he knew, they were insulting him. However, they could also be speaking cordially. He groaned, walking back to the Grand Hall. As he walked, the ground began to rumble a bit, the prince looking around. Horses? No! It must be that beast. He walked towards the sound and... it was strolling down the empty hall. Alfred stood in front of it, the creature taking notice of him and stopping.

"Hello, Alfred Jones." He hummed, Alfred nodding at him in recognition. "I suppose you know where Arthur and Smudge are? It would be bad for your mate to lose his gift so soon." The American nodded, pursing his lips.

"I assume Smudge is the dog. If so, they're okay." He assured, looking up at the beast. "Your name is Earl? You don't look like an Earl." Alfred said suddenly, the minotaur turning his head.

"Well, it's just something the young master calls me." He informed. "You can call me something else." He offered, but Alfred shook his head.

"Nah~" He chuckled. "You'll grow into the name. Besides, multiple names will just confuse you." There was an awkward silence until Alfred remembered why he wanted to talk to the magical entity. "Hey..." He started, unsure as of he should go about it. "Who sent Arthur this gift?" The minotaur sighed. "And why?" The prince added.

"These are not very simple questions." The minotaur said softly. "But, if you have the time to listen to my explanation, let me tell you immediately. Somewhere private." Alfred nodded. He wanted to know every single thing about this 'Council' and why they were so interested in Arthur's life. The prince began to lead the creature to his solar, opening up both doors as to left the minotaur in.

"This place is sound proof. No one can listen in." He assured as he closed the door. The minotaur nodded as he took a seat on the ground, groaning.

"Well, what is your first question?" He asked, and the prince hummed, trying to pick out the one of the million questions he had.

"What's this council you speak of?" He asked, sitting down on the floor a few feet in front of the beast. Earl blew steam from his nose.

"It is the Council of Imperial Magick, the executive branch of the Holy Order. They're... the administration." He explained. Alfred quirking his brows.

"What is this Holy Order?" He asked, and the minotaur remained silent. "I won't tell." Alfred swore, but the minotaur still remained silent. "Why can't you tell me?"

"Because" He started. "You are human."

Alfred scoffed bitterly. "I wish." The minotaur tilted his head in confusion. Alfred groaned, not really wanting to go through explaining it again. "I'm a lycan... of sorts." He flashed his eyes for emphasis, the minotaur nodding slowly as he marinated in the information.

"Well then, that is indeed surprising." He said, mystified. "I will have to inform the Order."

"What?" Alfred shook his head. "Dude, I don't even know what this order is!" The minotaur shook his head.

"The Holy Order was put in place to protect magical beings by providing them the tools to enhance their powers and abilities. They also provided solace to magical beings who cannot cope with their gifts. They are located on another plane of existence, but it is relatively easy to travel between worlds. There, they have built communities of anomalies, who coexist similarly to how humans do. For those of us who live in this plane of existence, in order to protect them and others, they have branches such as the Council to give guidance. The Holy Order is salvation." The prince quirked a brow. It sounded good at first, but the last part made it sound like a cult. They were always watching.

"Does this Council only watch over witches?" The minotaur nodded. "Who is in charge of this council?"

"There are five Grand Leaders, each specializing in a kind of witchcraft."

"That doesn't answer my question."

The minotaur shrugged. "The answers mean nothing to you. But if you insist. The main leader, Salvator Fulgur sees to all covens. The other Salvatores are Salvator Tempestas, Salvator Motus, Salvator Venti, and Salvator Venari also do the same thing. I should say, they do all do the same thing, equally. The rest of the lesser members, they just handle the files." Alfred was mystified, this whole organization...

"Who sent Arthur the gift?" The minotaur huffed.

"It was Salvator Fulgur." He sounded... disappointed. "He... had never taken to someone like this before. He never sends gifts." Alfred pursed his lip. Taken?

"What do you mean by he's taken to my mate."

"Not like that." The minotaur could sense some hostility. "He's been watching Arthur since his youth, helping him when he could. Most of Arthur's survival is really due to the graciousness of Salvator Fulgur. This gift is only the first to come, there will be many more." Alfred felt a little uneasy.

"Gifts for a transition? Isn't that a bit overkill?" The minotaur, once again, shrugged.

"And for the pregnancy." He said casually, the prince flinching. They Knew! He shot up to his feet, face red and growling.

"H-how do they know!?" The minotaur ignored him, finally standing up.

"My break is over." He groaned. "I have more messages to send." Alfred frowned, but he didn't argue. "I will return with the next gift."

~~~Wounded Knight~~~

Alfred walked back to the Great Hall to hear loud laughter. As he stood in front of the double doors, he mentally prepared himself for the rest of the day. It was just about 8 am, when he would normally wake up. He heard more voices than usually, leading him to believe that even more guests were arriving. He sighed. Maybe he should just send a guard to escort Arthur back to his room.

"Why are you standing out here, Ve~?" Alfred jumped, turning around to see Feliciano, Arthur, Chancy and Julius. The brit walked over to him, concerned eyes.

"Are you alright?" His hands grabbed his cheeks, his big green eyes searching his. "You were gone for a while." Alfred nodded, bending down to kiss his mate's forehead sweetly.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine." He took hold of the other's hand. His free hand was occupied with Julius, who was tugging at his fingers. "Are you doing fine? I kind of abandoned you." Arthur's cheeks became red with excitement.

"Oh yes! Everyone is just so nice." He said eagerly. "Especially Feliciano." He moved to the side so Alfred could face Feli, who was having a in depth conversation with Chancy. The two omegas were both sporting noticeable baby bumps now, the prince grinning at the scene. He couldn't wait for Arthur to show. He cleared his throat, gaining their attention.

"Thank you for being kind to him." He said simply as he bowed, the Italian shaking his head.

"Arthur is great!" He said lightly. "He is so smart and funny." Alfred nodded as he stood straight.

"Well, since the ceremony is in a few hours, I think Arthur and I should go get ready. Is that okay with you?" Alfred asked, and the omega with the light brown hair nodded. Alfred turned back to look at his mate in time to see a flash of disappointment in his eyes. "Unless, you want to stay. You don't really have all that much to get ready, so you can acquaint yourself with the others while I'm gone." He offered, and his big green eyes lit up. Alfred had wanted to tell him everything he had just learned, but so much has happened recently. This information can wait. The American turned to the little frenchman. "Will you be okay?" Chancy placed a hand on his stomach, nodding.

"Davie's in the Great Hall." He explained. "If anything seems off, I'll find him." He said warmly. Alfred nodded.

"Alright, I'm off." He gave his mate a parting kiss before he walked away, waving behind him as he made his way down the hall.

* * *

 **2 hours later...**

Alfred gazed at himself in the mirror, annoyed at his shaking. "Why am I so nervous?! I'm never nervous... haha..." He patted his face lightly. "Get your head in the game, dude! It's only a few lines, and wink at the crowd, and a metal hat being dropped on my head! I can handle this!... Right?" He turned to Marshal, Thomas, Clark and Davie, his entourage. The four nodded eagerly. They were all currently in the royal dressing rooms, a whole bunch of butlers and seamstresses bustling about to get the prince prepared. Thomas shot up from his seat on the black leather couch and approached him, readjusting his glasses. Alfred swore he was going blind, he couldn't make it out of his room with his god forsaken glasses.

"Don't doubt yourself, dummy." He said softly. Alfred nodded, knocking his glasses out of place. Thomas readjusted them once more. "It'll be over before you know it." He assured, before smiling. "At least I assume, I've never actually been crowned before." He shrugged and walked away, Alfred growling. He turned to his mirror again.

"Should I change my outfit?"

"Again?" Marshal groaned. "You look dashing in that attire. You clean up well." He joked, and the prince shivered. Oh god, this is happening. He looked at his outfit. His blue surcoat had white embroidery throughout it. It was sleeveless so his freshly polished steel armor was visible, for now at least. He had a number of robes he would have to change into for the day, and he was already dreading the experience. He was close to breaking a sweat, his nerves and the weight of his armor getting the better of him. He glanced back at his friends, who matched his apparel.

"We all look the same..." He muttered. "Whatever!" He began to shadow box, hoping back and forth. "I'm ready for anything."

"That's the spirit!" Davie said, standing, joining him along with Clark in his shadow boxing. Marshie laughed as he was forced to stand up by Alfred, Davie dragging Tommie up. The five began to shadow box, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, the prince losing himself in the atmosphere. After a few more minutes of goofing around, there was a knock on the door, a seamstress opening it. The boys turned to see the queen-mother, dressed in a simple red dress with black embroidery. Her hair was done up, and crystals glimmered within the intricate loops of her locks. The laughter died.

Everyone in the room was informed of the Queen's latest assault on Arthur, the prince telling them the moment he had them all gathered together. They eyed her with disdain. She noticed, the prince was sure, but she just ignored it; perhaps used to it by now. She cleared her throat. "I would like to speak to my son privately." She said, the boys shifting on their heels. Alfred had made them promise not to leave him alone with her, but now that it was happening, it was hard to keep. Alfred shook his head.

"Whatever you came to say, you can do so in front of company." He said bluntly, the queen scoffing.

"Surely you can't be serious." She started. "I don't think you want them to know what I have to say about your dear mate." Alfred shrugged, the boys taking a seat on the black leather couch. She groaned. "You were always so difficult as a child." He muttered, and Alfred shook his head.

"No, on the contrary, I always did what you said." His friends looked up at him curiously. Alfred looked back at them in confusion before realizing he hadn't told anyone aside from Arthur that he had gotten his memory back. "I remember everything from my childhood now. " He confessed, the room erupted with gasps. "Yea, yea, dudes settle down. Nothing extraordinary going on, just got it back after I briefly lost my memory. I-i'll explain later." He waved his hands of the topic. "What do you want, mother?" he turned his attention back to the aging woman.

"Is it wrong for me to see my son before he is crowned?" She asked, feigning innocence. He shrugged.

"It's wrong to bruise his mate's ribs." He shot back, the queen sighing.

"That was a long story, but you do not understand the sheer panic I was in!" The Queen-mother frowned. "Perhaps it was wrong to jump to the conclusions that I had, but I truly did think he had something to do with... your returning ailment." Alfred hummed. "I wanted answers, and he was being so difficult that I... ugh! He was so insufferable!" She ranted. The prince scowled. "He's nowhere near as innocent as he comes across, I'm sure of it! I'm positive!" She was shaking her head wildly, hands shooting forward. "He has secrets no one knows about. Secrets that can mean life or death." She warned. Alfred shook his head.

"I don't need to hear this, not right now." He put his hands on his hips. "Arthur is harmless. You're just paranoid! Can't you trust my judgment enough to have faith in his character? I, and many others, adore him, because he is so... so... _Arthur_." The queen-mother looked at him with pleading eyes. "I know that means nothing because you only know him on a superficial level, but please, try to understand that just because you can't scare him into submission doesn't mean he's dangerous." She shook her head, about to speak. He cut her off. "Now, please enjoy the ceremony. Have a drink, flirt, mingle. And, if you're feeling up to it, apologize to Arthur for all the trouble you have caused him. Despite what others think... I know you're not a bad person. In fact, you're an angel in disguise." He said softly, walking over to his mother. He placed a short kiss on her forehead before opening the door, motioning her to leave. She looked shocked, and a little hurt, but she nodded anyway, walking out of the room silently. Alfred felt a pang on the side of his head, but he knew it was his mother who was really hurting.

As he stared at the door, his friends crowded around him, enveloping him in a big group hug. He sighed as he fell to the floor, blinking away the tears in his eyes. As his friends continued to cling onto him, patting him and telling him that he was right, and that there was nothing to worry about, he began to sob, as if the situation wasn't embarrassing enough. The voices stopped, instead, they held him silently, allowing him to cry.


	40. Chapter 40

**Coronation credits to Queen Elizabeth and Archbishop of Canterbury lol**

 **Arthur's Point of view...**

 **Hours later...**

Arthur had changed into his more formal wear with Matthew, Chancy, Feliciano, and Romano later into the evening. It was around 8 o'clock pm and everyone was here, the Grand hall filled with so many different languages and attire. It was a scene from a story book. The brit just shivered at the thought of it. The coronation was going to start any minute, the room buzzing in excitement for the American royal family. With the exception of a corner to the brit's left. When Matthew saw Arthur looking off in that direction, he explained.

"That's Ivan and Gilbert." Arthur gasped, the two not being what he expected them to be. For one, no one had told him the German was an albino. Two, no one had told him that the Russian was so... big. Until now Arthur had never met a man who looked as if they could overpower Alfred, however this Ivan guy looked insanely strong. His eyes were a pale violet, his fiance's eyes a deep red. But back to the Russian, he wore a large gold chain around his neck, and a gold and silver crown laced with velvet and jewels on his head. His outfit was a very long cream colored tunic that trailed about 2 feet behind him, but of course the outfit was embroidered with golden vines and the occasional sunflower. His sleeves were very large in diameter around the wrists, so he could easily cover his hands and perhaps conceal gifts and food in there simultaneously. His ash blond hair could almost be mistaken for white if he weren't surrounded by the color. Against his outfit, his hair was most certainly blond. He was, to say the least, very attractive. His thick eyebrows were knitted downwards, and his soft pink lips were in a deep frown. His skin, like Arthur's, and like Gilbert's, was unnaturally pale.

Arthur turned his attention to Gilbert Beilschmidt, who, to his shock, was already staring at him, analyzing him intently. Arthur snapped his eyes away, but he could tell the other was still staring. The brit had a little debate in his head before he grabbed Matthew by his hand and forced him to come along. "Where are we going?" He asked.

"To say hi." Matthew groaned as he pieced things together. However, he didn't protest. As the pair approached the couple, Arthur could see a flash of panic on the German's face, confused as to why they had walked over. Oh, so he didn't notice the brit staring? Arthur put on a smile as a way to defuse the situation, and by the way the German's shoulder's relaxed, it worked. He had a crown similar to Ludwig's on his head, but his outfit was identical to Ivan's. When the group was in earshot of each other, Gilbert spoke.

"Hallo, ich heiße Gilbert." He said in German. Arthur nodded, speaking in German back.

" _Hello, my name is Arthur Pendragon_." He bowed slightly in his dress. " _I came over because I don't believe we've met._ " He explained, and the albino smirked.

" _Ahh, so you wanted to meet my awesomeness._ " He nodded in understanding. Arthur narrowed his eyes at the other. Huh?

" _Uh, sure. Well, anyways, I assume this is your mate._ " He said pointing towards Ivan, who was just watching their conversation with uninterested eyes. Gilbert didn't respond, instead he turned to the Russian and spoke in the tsar's native language.

" _I think this is Alfred's mate._ " He said. " _He is pretty. Sucks that I didn't meet him first. There's no way he could have resisted all of this awesomeness!_ " Ivan scoffed.

" _You wish._ " He started. " _His standards seem to be too high_." Gilbert chuckled at the little jab.

" _But at least your standards aren't._ " He shot back, Ivan's stony expression turning warm.

" _Yeah, luckily for you._ "

Arthur silently translated the conversation to Matthew, who "Aww"d silently. "You guys are surprisingly cute together." The American said suddenly, the couple turning to him in confusion. "Tell them what I said." He ordered the brit.

" _He believes the two of you are cute together_." He said in Russian, the couple taken aback, blushing in mild embarrassment. Gilbert nodded.

"We speak some english." He said in a deep German accent.

" _You can speak Russian_?" Ivan asked, a heavy russian accent making the brit shiver. He nodded shyly. " _That's impressive. Gilbert's one of the only other people here who can speak Russian. They all seem to know how to speak English, though_." His voice remained leveled, but Arthur had a feeling if he had the ability to, he would have sounded bitter. " _Where are you from_?" He asked.

" _England. I'm the last king's 4th son_." He introduced himself. The pair nodded, before Gilbert gasped.

" _Just for the record, our territory had nothing to do with the collapse of your empire._ " He said sheepishly. " _It was mostly the French, Americans and the Spanish._ " Arthur bit his lip, nodding.

" _I try not to think about those things, considering where I am_." He confessed. _"But I am aware, thank you._ " The German shrugged before turning his attention to Matthew.

"Whaddup loser?" He shot informally in English, the American scowling.

"Nothing much, snowflake." he shot back, the albino snickering. At least the brit thought it was a snicker. It was more of this broken hissing sound.

"Kesesesese~" there it was again. Arthur couldn't help but stare.

" _I know, it's weird_." Ivan said, shaking his head. " _Try hearing that when you think you're alone. It's disturbing._ " Arthur nodded.

 _"I could only imagine._ " He chuckled, taking a sip of water from his glass. " _He seems happy though._ " He thought outloud, the russian quirking a brow.

" _Why wouldn't he be?_ " Arthur cursed himself.

 _"I mean no disrespect_." He assured. "I j _ust figured he'd be lonely without his family."_ He shrugged innocently, but the russian was still giving him a hard gaze.

 _"I don't recall telling you he lives in the winter palace with me."_ He said quietly. Arthur furrowed his brows. He himself didn't even know that!

" _He's living with you? I heard that he only spent a week out of the month with you."_ He tilted his head to the side, giving the russian a hard stare in return. The russian looked confused.

" _That was months ago._ " he mumbled. _"But I'm not surprised, seeing that you were overseas. You wouldn't have known._ " He looked over to Arthur's left. _"Hello little one_." Arthur looked down to see that Julius was clinging to his dress. Was he there the whole time? Arthur introduced him.

" _His name is Julius. He's going to be living with me for a while._ " He proceeded to explain the palace ward program to the russian.

He nodded to himself. " _You know_ -" The prince was cut off by a loud cacophony of trumpets and horns. _"It's begining._ " He said dully, squaring his shoulders and taking a seat. The layout of the grand hall was guests on both sides of the room, and a narrow space between them for the prince and his entourage to walk through. The room was decorated in lavish reds and purples, rose petals all over the floor, leading up to the short set of stairs before the throne. The throne itself was gorgeous, no matter how many times Arthur has seen it. The velvet cushions and authentic gold framing made the furniture look so ornate. The Palace priest was already waiting at the top of the stairs, with the new crown resting on a pillow in his hands.

The trumpets stopped blaring, and the large double doors swung open slowly, revealing John the harold. The older man had his dark hair gelled back and his facial hair trimmed. He was dressed in light blue imperial uniform with an array of buttons and fastenings. "I present to you, Crown Prince Alfred Fitzgerald Jones." His voice was booming, and no corner of the room escaped the message. He began to march towards the stairs as more people began to enter from the double doors. Arthur spotted Marshal, Thomas, Clark, Jorge, and Davie in that order, each wearing their armor underneath a light blue tunic with their respective family emblems on it. They had their swords on their hips in their sheaths as they took their positions on the side of the steps, waiting for the prince. Arthur could hardly hold his gasp once Alfred stepped in through the door.

Alfred too wore the armor and the blue tunic, but his outfit was supplemented by... a shit ton of jewelry and a long flowing cape. Let's break down the outfit, shall we. His polished armor was made with 100% real steel, his tunic made of silk from China. On the chest of his tunic the royal crest, an eagle whose sharp claws were wrung around the neck of a small furry animal. He had his sword sheathed at his waist, the sheath itself shimmering with jewels and silver. He held a large circular shield in one hand, a larger image of his family's crest engraved onto it. His cape was a royal blue, and it stretched far behind him, at least 2 yards. The cape, the brit could tell from there, was thick, yet soft. The trim of the cape was made from the hide of a... zebra? The black and white stripes of the trim traveled all around the perimeter of the cape, extending to his shoulders, where the cape fastened onto his armor. He wore silver medallion after medallion around his neck, the brit wondering how heavy it was. Finally, Arthur moved his attention to his mate's face, heart fluttering at the determined and yet calm expression he had. His ocean blue eyes were alight, the brit could tell, and the brit could swear he saw his lips tug. With the armor and the shield held out in front of him, it almost looked as if the American was off to war.

He walked up the stairs and kneeled before the priest, his long blue cape resting on the steps. The priest cleared his voice. "Do you solemnly swear to govern the Peoples of the United States of America, your pacific territories, and all other territories under the United States crown?"

"I solemnly promise to do so." The prince said.

"Will you, to your power, allow Law and Justice, with mercy, to be executed in all of your judgements?"

"I will." The prince answered.

"Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the Laws of God and the true profession of the Gospel?" The priest asked. "Will you to the utmost of your power maintain in the United States the religious toleration established by law?" he continued. "Will you maintain and preserve inviolable the settlement of all peoples, and the doctrine, worship, and discipline thereof, as by law established in America? And will you preserve unto the Bishops and Clergy of America and to the Churches there committed to their charge, all such rights and privileges, as by law do or shall appertain to them or any of them?"

"All this I promise to do. The things which I have here before promised, I will perform, and keep. So help me God." The priest placed the pillow on the chair, taking the crown gently and placing atop of Alfred's head. Two other clergy members carrying a silver scepter and a bible on a pillow. The one with the scepter kneeled down beside Alfred, offering it out. Alfred took hold of the scepter, standing up and facing the crowd. "I, Alfred Fitzgerald Jones, do solemnly and sincerely in the presence of God profess, testify, and declare that I am a faithful Protestant, and that I will, according to the true intent of the enactments which secure the succession to the Throne of my Realm, uphold and maintain the said enactments to the best of my powers according to law." The priest with the Bible in his hand knelt down before Alfred and offered out the book.

"Here is Wisdom; These are the lively Oracles of God!" priest said, the American picking it up. The trumpets began to play, the crowd cheering. Alfred nodded to the priests before taking a seat on the throne, wiping his brow. Everyone began to stand up, the brit making his way through the crowd to congratulate his mate, Matthew and others closely behind. Once Arthur was in front of the stairs, he stopped himself, suddenly feeling self conscious. He looked down at his feet before looking up again, blushing under the intense gaze of his mate. The prince - no- King outstretched his hand, motioning for the brit to take it. Arthur took a hesitant step forward.

Alfred broke into a smile, now extending both hands for the other to take. Arthur chuckled as he rushed over, his own hands outstretched. "I'm so proud of you~" He squealed, bouncing a bit. Alfred smiled, his cheeks turning pink. He stood up, hugging the brit firmly.

"You look beautiful." He sighed, looking down at the other's appearance. Arthur shook his head, lacing their fingers together.

"Thats amazing coming from you. You looking absolutely dashing!" He complimented. Alfred smiled.

"It's heavy as hell, though." They chuckled together, before a thought popped into Arthur's mind.

"You better not dress like this tomorrow." He warned, Alfred looking down at him in confusion before breaking into a smile.

"I mean, no amount of shields could distract from your beauty." He teased. "But if you insist, I'll bring it down a notch tomorrow." He took step away from Arthur. "You honestly look amazing." He repeated, and Arthur looked away, bashful. "Twirl for me." He ordered.

* * *

 **Alfred's POv...**

Alfred's mouth watered as the other turned in a circle over and over. Nothing is sexier than Arthur in a nice dress. Well, except Arthur naked that is. He wore a gorgeous navy blue dress with white and gold detailing on the front and back of the silhouette. The crinoline was huge, it was almost cone shaped, expanding no more than 4 feet at the base. The dress was sleeveless, so his smooth pale arms were completely visible. The brit, he could tell, was wearing heels, seeing he stood a little taller than normal. He also had a bit of makeup on: gold eyeshadow, peachy rouge. His lips were plumped and a light pink. His hair was in an updo, a simple bun with a small tiara on it, shimmering gold. The King approached him and wrapped a possessive hand around him.

"Aren't you gonna sit on your new throne for a while, my king?" He teased. The American scoffed.

"Only if you sit on my lap." Arthur blushed as he lightly wacked his shoulder.

"Don't you start, git." He warned, pulling away as some of Alfred's leading men approached with their mates. Alfred smiled at his companions warmly, welcoming the bear hug that almost swallowed him whole. He could hear Arthur and his friends laugh.

"Guys~" He complained, but none of them would release him. "Ugh! We're in our armor. And this cape is expensive!" He suddenly remembered, pushing them off. They laughed as they let go, patting his shoulders and smiling brightly.

"We are so proud of you!" Davie was the first to speak, pulling the King in for another hug. "You're going to do great man, I can just feel it." His friends nodded, causing Alfred to blush.

"I-I'll try..." He muttered, looking down at his new scepter. The feeling was... unreal. Everything seemed so unreal. So... dreamlike. This is what he's been waiting for. His whole entire life, he's been waiting for this moment. Of course there has been some setbacks, but he finally has the crown. And tomorrow is his wedding day. His first day as king will be spent making his mate his queen, and perhaps going on a honeymoon afterwards? He began to pant. When will he start policy making? How will he help the people? Should he give a survey first to see what the basic needs of his people are, or should he-

"Hey," A firm hand patted him on the back. It was Thomas. The king internally screamed. Why is he so nice? He's planning on executing his father! Wait... He can't let the first thing he does as king be an execution! Of one of his best friends's father at that! He groaned. Was Arthur right, should he just pardon him? "Just relax" Thomas continued. "Breathe in and out. You'll do fine as King. Matter of fact, you'll probably throw us into a Golden Age! Don't get nervous. Trust your gut." Are you sure, because his gut is telling him to kill his father? Alfred nodded, cursing himself. He'll settle for exile.

"Thanks, man. I-" He was interrupted by the sounds of trumpets blaring, the tables being brought in and moved to the sides of the room, the chairs following close behind. The crowd began to dance as the band played, an orchestra to be exact. The Grand Hall was huge, 180 feet long and 100 feet wide. There was more than enough room for a number of festivities. "It's time to dance... I guess." Marshal grabbed the king by the wrist, pulling him to the crowd.

"Dance with us!" He ordered, grabbing Davie's hand, who in turn grabbed Clark, who grabbed Tommie, who grabbed Alfred. The circle of boys were full of chuckles as they made their way to the dance floor, ignoring the confused or amused glances of the palace guest. "Where's Jorge? We need an even number of people!" Marshie asked, looking around in the sea of people.

"He's with his wife." Said a heavy spanish accent. Alfred and the gang turned to see Mary and Jorge dancing, well, really, it was Mary dancing and Jorge trying to inch his way to his friends.

"Join us!" they cheered, the man with the clingy wife breaking away and rushing over to his friends.

"Jorge!"

"I'll make up to you, I promise!" He called out to his wife, turning his attention to the king. He and Alfred embraced. "You look sharp. Are your ready? Focused? Excited?" Jorge asked, grabbing Marshal as his partner, dancing. Alfred nodded as he partnered with Clark, the African American deciding to take the lead.

"You better be." He said seriously, and Alfred almost felt his heart drop.

"I'm not sure though." He muttered. "I know what to do, but... what if I can't execute?" Clark twirled him. "I mean, what kind of king would I be if everything I do goes wrong?" Clark pursed his lips.

"A bad king." He said bluntly, and Alfred frowned. "But, you won't be, because, even when you feel confused and don't know what to do, the people who are around you can and will help you. This country will be fine. You'll be fine." He assured, and Alfred sighed.

"Hopefully." Clark raised a brow.

"Why choose now to begin to doubt yourself?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. Alfred shrugged.

"It just dawned on me that I have an entire country riding on my back." Clark stared at him as they waltzed. "And..." The prince groaned. "The last few weeks were a little rough, and I learned, that in the grand scheme of things... I'm not shit, you know?" He frowned. "Things could easily get worse from here. For all we know, today marks the beginning of the end of the United States of America." Clark sighed.

"Stay optimistic. You don't want to jinx yourself." he advised.

"Wow, thanks, I feel _sooo_ much better." Alfred teased. "Nice Chat." Clark rolled his eyes. Of course Alfred was half telling the truth. Talking it out did make him feel better, but maybe he'll talk to Davie and Francis about it later. Suddenly Clark swung Alfred into the arms of another, Davie to be exact. "Oh, is our dance done so soon?"

"For the better." Davie answered for the other, who was now out of earshot. "You look stunning." He teased, the king flipping his hair.

"I feel stunning." Shooting the other a dazzling smolder. Davie shivered.

"You're so creepy, let jokes die." He said in mild distaste.

"Bitch."

"Super Bitch." The two stared each other down until they began to crack up in laughter, grabbing the attention of a number of party guests. "Nah, but seriously," Davie chuckled. "You're gonna be fine. This is the beginning of a new phase of your life. You're king today, you'll be a husband tomorrow-" Alfred nodded along.

"I'll be a father in 7 months." He added to his growing list of responsibilities. "Damn, I'm gonna be a busy son of a bitch." He muttered to himself. He paused at the shocked face of his dance partner. "Yes?" They stood still for about 10 seconds, Davie's eyes watering slightly as he smiled brightly.

"You're going to be a dad?" he grabbed Alfred by his shoulders before pulling him into another rough hug. "CONGRATULATIONS!" He practically squealed. Alfred cursed himself as he hushed him. How could he so recklessly reveal this?!

"NONONONO NONONONO!" He tried to stop the other, but his other friends were already crowded around them, wanting to know what the commotion was about. "Davie-"

"They're pregnant!" the 2nd in command informed, the other men getting excited and congratulating him wildly. Alfred tried to settle them down so he could tell them not to tell anyone, but they just wouldn't stop, Marshal having the audacity to actually rush towards Arthur and his group of friends.

"No!" Alfred ordered, but he was out of earshot. He sprinted after the other, but the crowd was so dense and Marshal was surprisingly fast. Alfred suddenly found himself lost and annoyed in a sea of rich people. "Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me." he said as he made his way through. When he had finally found Marshal is was well past too late, the idiot was already kissing Arthur's hand, the girls around Arthur bouncing up and down in excitement. "Oh shit." He groaned, debating whether to go in like a man, or run off and mingle with the royals. Before he could decide he was pulled to the side by King Ludwig of Germany.

"Are you enjoying the party, King Ludwig?" Alfred asked, shaking hands with the blonde man. The German smiled warmly, nodding.

"I really pulled you aside because I wanted to apologize." He said bluntly. Alfred tilted his head.

"For what?"

"For judging your mate with prior prejudices in my mind." He confessed. "After my brief encounter with him this morning, I can see why you are so serious about him." Alfred smiled.

"You liked him?! I was right?!" He chuckled, the German laughing along with him.

"Yes, yes... I also came to you about my prior... request." He straightened himself. Alfred nodding. "So, will you help?" The American groaned.

"Before I make my decision, I think we both need to interact with your brother and his mate-"

"He is not his mate." The german corrected, and the American nodded.

"My mistake, his fiance." He said cooly. "We should meet and have a conversation with them." He suggested. "So we can see for ourselves what their relationship is like in person." Ludwig shook his head.

"They can just pretend to be a happy couple." He grunted, and Alfred shook his head.

"Gilbert wears his emotions, you know that." He sighed. "If anything is wrong, we'll be able to tell." He glanced over at his mate, who was beet red as he tried to calm his entourage. Alfred could tell by the wild look in his eyes that he was overwhelmed and confused, and by the way the omega was shrinking back, Alfred could tell he was also getting scared. He groaned, guilt washing over him as he turned back towards the German. "If you'd excuse me." He said quickly, waiting for Ludwig to nod before rushing over to his mate.

"Artie, babe!" He called as he approached the circle, smiling weakly at the sight of his scowl. "I'm sorry." He whimpered once he came close enough, Arthur groaning in annoyance. Alfred pulled him into a hug, excusing them from the group. Once they were again by the throne, Arthur snatched his hand away from the other. "Arthur I know I-"

"I told you not to tell anyone!" He hissed. Alfred groaned, nodding. As Alfred looked down at his toes, his eyes spotted something red by the other's dress. He snapped his eyes to see Julius burying himself into Arthur's dress. His red velvet coat made him easy to spot. The king offered a hand out for the little, who took it, now hiding himself behind his legs.

"I'm sorry, it just slipped." Arthur put his hands on his waist. "I mean it. I was talking about my life was changing because I'm king and that it'll continue changing because I'm going to get married, and be a father." He confessed. "Please don't be mad, I didn't mean to." He begged, the brit scowling.

"I... they know now!" He groaned, squeezing his eyes close. Alfred cursed, was he going to cry? He grabbed the other's shoulders gently.

"I'm really sorry. I... I would say I'll make it up to you, but I don't know how." He confessed, the brit looking up at him with red eyes. "But for now, forgive me. Please." Arthur nodded.

"I mean, now that they know, we don't have to plan a whole... thing to tell them." He attempted to look on the bright side. "It's not too bad, I guess." He sighed, looking at the dancing crowd. "I know how you can make it up to me." He smiled lightly. Alfred could guess what he was thinking, getting on his knees and offering up a hand. Arthur nodded as he took, blushing as Alfred took him to the dance floor. Julius began to yawn, the king remembering his presence. He lifted the young boy onto his hip as the walked. It would be slightly uncomfortable to dance with a child in his arms, but he didn't want to let the boy out of his sight.

"May I have this dance?" He asked as the music switched. Arthur nodded.


	41. Chapter 41

**The next day...**

 **Arthur's POV...**

He groaned as the corset tightened, and the crinoline snapped shut. He hadn't slept since yesterday, save for a few naps. He was given some coffee, but even with that, he felt like he was about to pass out. He hadn't seen Alfred since last night, the two being forced their separate ways to prepare for the wedding. He was currently in the dressing room with Chancy, Julia, Mary and Anabelle, Isabelle was busy getting the reception room in order. Arthur looked down at his dress which was hung up on a rack, smiling at his choice.

"You're going to look beautiful, Arthur." Chancy said, and the girls nodded their heads. "I can't wait for the finished look." Arthur nodded.

"I fear they might pluck my eyebrows." He kidded, the others laughing. "That's not a bad thing, I guess." He was sat down on a big chair as the makeup artist walked in. The hair stylist walked in right after him. "Oh boy." He said as he saw the huge carry-ons they had.

The make up artist was an older woman with jet black hair, blue eyes and thin lips. "Do you have a specific look in mind, or do you want me to do what I feel is best?" She asked, propping up a mirror in front of them. The hair stylist was busy talking to the bridesmaids, asking them what kind of hair they wanted. Arthur bit his lip. "Can you make it go with the theme of the wedding? It's outdoors in the royal gardens. I don't want anything too out there like the color green, but I do want this nature like finish." The make up artist nodded, getting to work.

"I'll turn you into a pretty pixie." Arthur quirked a brow, the makeup artist finally noticing it. "Oh... my. We're going to have to do something about those. We won't shave too much off, the big eyebrows suit you." She informed. Arthur only nodded.

~~~Wounded Knight~~~

 **1 hour later...**

Arthur took a small grape into his mouth, ravenous. Soon his hair stylist will begin with his hair, currently preoccupied with Isabelle's kinkier hair. Arthur tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he ate. He looked at himself in the mirror, pursing his pink glossy lips. He looked like himself, at least. He hummed as he took another bite, Chancy walking over to him. They sat beside each other in silence, the pair enjoying each other's company. Eventually they were interrupted by the stylist, who finally tamed Isabelle's hair and was ready to begin on Arthur's hair.

"Do you have any particular style in mind? I see you've grown your hair hair out for this." He initiated small talk, Arthur going along.

"Yea, I guess. I don't really care, you can decide what's best." He informed, the stylist grinning.

"Well, then I guess you won't mind if I cut here," She showed Arthur through the mirror. "Made a part here," She flipped some hair. "And finally... layer your hair here." Arthur tried to imagine it, but he couldn't.

"I can't see it, but if you can, go for it." He agreed, the stylist nodding.

"Say goodbye to your ends."

~~~Wounded knight~~~

 **40 minutes later...**

Arthur couldn't stop smiling, touching his hair. He loved it, and he was sure Alfred would too. His friends were beginning to put on their dresses, Arthur following suit. Of course Arthur needed about five people to help put it on, though, each being careful not to damage the lace. He groaned as the corset was tightened. "I'm sorry, your majesty." A maid whispered to him. "It's only for tonight." The brit nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He stepped into his heels, taking a few faux steps to see how comfortable they were. They weren't.

"Are there any other shoes I can wear? I mean, no one will be able to see it." He asked. The seamstress shook her head. "These are the matching shoes, and when you're walking, people will be able to notice." She informed, and Arthur huffed in defeat, nodding.

"It's only for a night." He told himself.

"Precisely" The seamstress said, lacing the dress. "You look marvelous." She held out the train. "Daphne, get the veil." She ordered, one of the other seamstresses rushing to the other side of the room. When he returned she handed her the the veil, Arthur biting his lip in suspense. "We'll put it on after we put on the jewelry. For now, Flora, prepare the flower girls and boys." The seamstress named Flora nodded, leaving the room. "Tiffany, get me the necklace and the rings." Arthur watched at they shuffled about the room, gathering everything. He panted lightly, the dress very heavy.

* * *

 **1 hour later..**.

Alfred stood at the man made altar in the royal gardens, the air smelling of sweet flowers and honey. There seemed to be an endless row of seats, filled by royals from all over the world. He made eye contact with his mother, who sat in the front row next to the harold, John. Davie patted his shoulder.

"Stop shaking." He ordered, and Alfred turned to him in confusion. "Yeah, you're shaking." Alfred looked down at his hand, which was indeed shaking slightly.

"I'm nervous." He muttered. "Davie, what if he doesn't come? It's been 10 minutes." He pursed his lips. "Do you think something happened?" Davie shook his head.

"You know people and their makeup. They're probably walking over now-" He was cut off by the sound of trumpets blaring, the prince releasing an audible sound of rejoice.

"Thank god." He said a little too loudly, his groomsmen laughing slightly. Though the garden was outside, there was this arch made of flowers that functioned as the entrance. The gazebo was decorated with flowers and functioned as the altar. From the entrance the first of the bridesmaids entered, the prince needing a moment to realize it was Mary. Her dark brown hair was tied in neat up-do decorated with jewels. Her dress was a pale gold, the sleeves made of lace of the same color. The dress looked as if it were made of silk, and in the sunlight she shimmered. Alfred couldn't see her shoes because the dress was full-length, however, it didn't have a train. As she walked down the path to the altar, Julia emerged from the entrance dressed in a similar fashion, the only difference being that her hair was in neat beach curls hanging near her hips, not in an updo. Then Anabelle appeared too, the only notable difference being her small golden hat atop of her brown updo. Isabelle walked out soon after, her hair in a curly high puff, decorated with gold strands instead of jewels.

Then the palace wards came out dressed in pearly white outfits. The palace wards were under the care of the king until they were 8 years old, where they would become an apprentice of a skilled worker somewhere in the capital city. For now, however, the children were about 4 years old, and in their hands were small baskets of white and gold flower petals, flower petals that they were throwing around as they bounced around in circles, not really having any sense of trajectory. Alfred tried shooting one of them, Julius, a stern look, but because they were all so self absorbed in playing in front of a crowd of strangers, it was only until Chancy emerged with a bouquet in his hand did they continue their journey down the cobbled path. Chancy's dress was similar to the other girls, however, the skirt was much wider by perhaps 2 feet, and his waist was cinched in a blinged out corset. His long blond hair braided into a side pony, his icy blue eyes discreetly watching the children who threw flowers around him. Unlike the others, the king noticed, Chancy's dress had a train made of lace, and his dress was sleeved in a cream lace, so his slightly muscular arms were very visible. Once Chancy was positioned in his designated spot in closest to center of the altar, Arnold emerged from the entrance. However, he stopped in front of the opening, bowing as he stuck his hand out. Slowly, a small gloved hand took his large hand gently, Alfred bracing himself.

It was as if the world had stopped spinning. It was Arthur he was looking at... he was sure of it, but... The king's breath was caught in his throat. Arnold wore a silky navy blue tunic with a black velvet jacket over it. His grey eyes were shining. However, Arthur... The crowd was making noises of awe. Alfred didn't know where to start. His dress was an ivory color, with an almost endless amount of golden lace drapes on the skirt, which was opened almost 6 feet in diameter. It took Alfred a moment to notice the 2 yard train of golden lace fabric following him. On his top half his plain ivory corset was visible through the sheer ivory fabric of his bodice, which covered all of his arms to the wrist. On top of this bodice, however, was more golden lace which wisped around in a floral design. His eye makeup was gold, and his pink lips had a shimmer of gold dust on it. His eyebrows were plucked slightly, only to get rid of the rectangular shape in favor of an arch. His shaggy hair was now silk pressed and layered. The front of his hair was pinned up so his forehead was visible, but the rest of his hair hung just above his shoulders, framing his face. Atop of his head was golden lace veil that stretched all the back to the train. Arthur's bouquet of flowers were rather large, the prince unfamiliar with what kind they were.

The closer he got to the altar, the more Alfred's eyes watered. Was he going to cry? He felt something warm touch his hand, the king looking down to see Julius holding his hand, bouncing around. He squeezed the other's hand, comforted by the small gesture. The palace priest was poised, turning his little book to the right page. Arnold helped the brit up the few steps of the gazebo, Arthur's left hand being grabbed by Julius. Arthur smiled warmly at the child as he stood in front of his mate. Alfred finally let his tears fall, scrambling to wipe it away. Arthur gazed at him warmly, the pair grabbing each other's available hand. The music stopped playing, and the crowd settled down, the priest clearing his throat.

"Into this union Prince Arthur Pendragon III of England and King Alfred Fitzgerald Jones of the United States now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not be lawfully wed, speak now, or else forever hold your peace." The pastor waited for any objections, Alfred making brief eye contact with his mother. She looked at him with dull eyes that held no intent. The pastor turned to the young couple. "I charge you both, here in the presence of God and the witness of this company, that if either of you know any reason why you may not be married lawfully and in accordance with God's Word, do now confess it." The pair eagerly shook their heads, the old pastor nodding happily. The pastor turned to Arthur and spoke. "Arthur Pendragon III will you have this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?" Alfred watched as Arthur's eyes watered.

"I will."

The pastor turned to Alfred. "And will you have this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?" Alfred nodded.

"I will."

The pastor turned to the crowd. "Will all of you witnessing these promises do all in your power to uphold these two persons in their marriage?"

"We Will!" the crowd cheered.

The pastor cleared his throat. "Who gives this omega to marry this man?" He asked, Arnold standing up.

"He gives himself, with the blessings of his father, his true father, and his true mother." His voice was heavy as he wiped a few tears, Arthur smiling at him with wet eyes.

"Now." The pastor said, stepping back. "You may exchange your vows." Alfred's heart almost dropped. Vows!? He didn't prepare any fucking vows?! Arthur cleared his throat.

"I suppose this is the part when I gush my feeling out." The crowd laughed, but Arthur's eyes were red with tears. "I'm not going to stand here and lie, and say that the last 6 months were amazing and that our relationship was nothing but smooth sailing. From the moment I met you, the first thing I thought was that you were a pain in the rear-" the crowd interrupted him with laughter. "Ahem... I was right, throughout our relationship you have proved time and time again that you can be a real pain, and at times insufferable. It seemed just as the waves had settled, another storm came through and swept us under." He took a deep breath. "But, even when times were tough, and our lives were in danger, and a mass of obstacles seemed to place itself in our way... you've always pulled through for me, indefinitely. Even when you had no idea what to expect, you went in headstrong not even batting an eye. You protect me, make me feel safe and loved and I want you to know that I'm grateful for everything you've ever done for me. In the name of God, I, Arthur Pendragon III, take you, Alfred Fitzgerald Jones, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow."

Alfred let the emotions wash over him, blushing at the mini-confession. He had no choice but to speak from the heart. "Uh... before I met you, I was this brooding figure that everyone feared. This cold and calculating man who didn't care for anyone's well being, who thought that I could do anything if I had my sword and shield. It's thanks to you that I... realize my place in the grand scheme of things. You taught me the value of individual life, and you taught me the worth of forging new relationships, and looking on the bright side of things. For a long time I and everyone else who knew me personally thought I would die alone because no one was able to catch my attention. From the moment I met you, I knew you were unique. I agree, the last 6 months were a very hectic time, and I often felt you were sent by God to punish me." The crowd laughed. "But looking back, I wouldn't have changed a single thing because we might not be here today, standing in front of each other, at an altar, about to get married. And though I try to say it everyday, I'll say here for the record. I love you dearly, so, in the name of God, I, Alfred Fitzgerald Jones, take you, Arthur Pendragon III, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow."

Julius pulled away from them in order to get the rings, seeing that his original position was ring bearer. He waddled over with a satin pillow, Alfred picking up the specially crafted ring that took 3 days to finish. "Bless, O Lord, these rings as a symbol of the vows by which this alpha and this omega have bound themselves to each other; through Jesus Christ our Lord."

"Amen" the crowd murmured.

Alfred picked up the other's left hand and removed the dainty glove. He slipped the ring onto his ring finger. The 22K rose gold band fit perfectly on his dainty finger, the pear shaped green emerald glistening in the natural sunlight. Arthur gasped, it being the first time he has seen it. "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Alfred said softly, Arthur nodding eagerly. He gingerly picked up a rose gold wedding band engraved with an arrangement of jewels. He slid that onto Alfred's left ring finger.

"I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." The pastor smiled, nodding, Julius simply dropping the pillow on the ground and grabbing the couple's hand again.

"Now that Arthur Pendragon III and Alfred Fitzgerald Jones have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and... husband, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Those whom God has joined together, let no one put asunder." The young couple went down to their knees, bowing before the pastor. "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen."

"Amen"

"God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit, bless, preserve and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favor look upon you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace; that you may faithfully live together in this life, and in the age to come have life everlasting. Amen." He blessed the kneeling couple. "Arthur Pendragon and Alfred Fitzgerald Jones, having witnessed your vows of love to one another, it is my joy to present you to all gathered here as husband and husband." He turned to Alfred."You may kiss the bride." The young couple practically launched at each other, looking into each other's eyes as they kissed slowly. The music once again began to play, people cheering as the couple kissed each other sweetly. They pulled away reluctantly, Julius running off with the other wards, throwing flower petals into the air.

* * *

Arthur rested his head on Arnold's chest as they slow dance in the reception room. It was the great hall, but now the tables were set up near the walls. People watched silently as Arthur shared the first dance of the night with his 'father', the music soft and hypnotising. "You look beautiful, by the way." Arnold muttered, and Arthur laughed.

"You've said that 5 times." He was twirled gently.

"Yes, but I mean it." He muttered. "You look exactly like your mother did, on her wedding day." Arthur looked up at him with doll eyes. "Of course the dress wasn't as lavish, but she was about your age when she got married to Uther. Igraine was a wonderful woman." They danced, Arthur's eyes tearing up.

"Did she get to dance with her father?" He asked softly.

"Yes, and she danced with every guest individually. Of course there were only 20 guests." He added. "She was the life of the party, so much love to give. It was that moment when I understood Uther's choice to not go back to the throne. He had everything he needed." Arthur wiped at his tears.

"What was my father like?" He asked suddenly, Arnold smiling warmly.

"That would take all night to explain. Maybe some other time?" Arthur bit his lip as he nodded.

"Thank you." He said suddenly, Arnold quirking a brow. "For being here, with me." He mumbled. "I would be alone, otherwise." Arnold nodded, kissing his forehead gently.

"The pleasure is all mine." Suddenly the music shifted to another beat, cuing for the brits to get off stage in favor of the American royal family. Alfred was wearing the same thing he was wearing yesterday, instead that the tunic was green, the cape was green, and the armor was completely white. he had his shield at the ceremony, but it was no longer on his person, Arthur assuming he set it down somewhere. The music began to play a steady melody, the mother and son duo slow dancing. The mother was wearing a bright blue dress, and her hair was pinned up into a high ponytail. Arthur could imagine the intensity in their eyes as Alfred twirled her. He sighed. He really did wish they could all get along. Eventually the song stopped, Arthur taking it as his signal to approach his mate. The queen made brief eye contact with the brit in passing, but otherwise didn't say a word. Once he had gotten close enough, Alfred gripped his waist.

"Shall we?" he asked, already leading in the waltz.

"I believe we already have." The two danced for what felt like forever, twirling and laughing as travelled all over the dance floor. Eventually the music changed, and people began spilling onto the dance floor. "Well, I think this is when we part ways." Alfred bowed. Arthur groaned, not wanting to leave his side. Just then the Russian King, or prince, the brit not really sure what his title really was, Ivan approached, a thin smile on his lips. Arthur bowed to him politely. " _Hello Ivan, I hope you are enjoying yourself!_ " He initiated small talk in Russian, the ash blond nodding his hand.

" _I'd enjoy it even more if we danced."_ He said smoothly. His outfit was a fitted purple tunic with a lavender jacket. It was very simplistic, however, the way he carried himself was very regal. Arthur nodded, reaching over to take the Russian's hand when he heard someone clear their voice. He turned to face Alfred, who had pursed lips and annoyed eyes. The brit chuckled nervously.

"I'm sure you two know each other." He said awkwardly, Alfred nodded.

"A little too well." Just then a small omega with auburn hair skipped over to them. Feliciano grabbed Alfred by the wrists.

"Now I will show you how Italians dance!" Before the king could protest, Feli had already dragged him away from the center of the dance floor. Arthur turned his attention back to Ivan, who was awkwardly looking around. The brit cleared his throat, linking his arm with Ivan's.

" _Excuse my husband's behavior._ " Arthur apologized. " _He just wants me all to himself_." Ivan nodded as he placed his hands on his waist, beginning to lead. Arthur frowned slightly at the height difference; even with heels he was dwarfed by the 6"4' giant. The Russian did look rather smashing tonight, the brit had to admit. His choice of lavender really brought out his eyes. " _You and Alfred know each other, a presume._ " He tilted his head as Ivan spun him.

" _We've had a few drinks here and there_." He shrugged. _"He doesn't fancy me all too well."_ Arthur smiled sadly.

" _It seems so, but why_?" Arthur pursed his lips. Ivan sighed.

" _No one likes Russians."_ He said almost sadly. " _Because it is so big, they think my country is power hungry._ " He explained, Arthur narrowing his eyes at him.

" _Is it just that?_ " He asked, skeptical. " _Maybe you're just intimidating_?" he said suddenly, catching what he had said moments after, pulling away and bowing in apology. " _I'm so sorry, that came out so rude!_ " He was bright red, the Russian laughing.

" _I take no offense, I've heard much worse."_ He chuckled as he took Arthur by the hips again. The brit shifted on his feet, the placement of the other's hand making him uncomfortable. Arthur repositioned them higher.

" _Well, I still crossed the line._ " He continued to apologize as they danced.

" _It's okay if it's true._ " Ivan assured. " _Gilbert tells me this all the time. The man never knows what he wants. First he says smile more, but when I do he calls me creepy. When he tells me to leave our room more often, and I do, he gets scared when he sees me in the hallways._ "

" _That's because you're always lurking in the shadowy places!_ " Arthur turned to Gilbert dancing with his younger brother Ludwig. They were making their way to the Russo-british pair. " _I mean._ " He said loudly. " _Who hides behind plants? Who does it making such an angry face?_ " Ludwig swung him away, the albino hurdling towards his fiance. Arthur detached himself from his dance partner in time for the Russian to catch Gilbert, the pair slowly falling into a dance. Ludwig approached the brit and offered out a hand, which he politely accepted. To be frank, the German made little attempt at communicating with Arthur yesterday morning, the brit figuring he hated him. However, the brit wasn't shocked he wanted to dance, the other probably having an ulterior motive.

The two danced slowly, the German glaring away other people who wanted to dance with Arthur. The brit bit his lip. "Your mate is a sweetheart." he said, trying to make small talk. Ludwig shrugged.

"I love him, but" He started, and the bride pursed his lips. "He only thinks about pasta, and whenever he gets scared, he cries." He explained, the brit nodding a bit uncomfortable. "But I agree, he has a very open heart." He smiled curtly, the brit smiling back.

"That kind of reminds me of Alfred, save for the crying part. He'll go on and on about his armor, and aliens, and burgers. And whenever he gets scared, he gets angry. I swear, he is just a child at heart." Ludwig's eyes opened widely, as if he had just had an epiphany.

"I heard that you are expecting a child. Congratulations!" He smiled widely. "Children are always fun to have around." Arthur thanked him, still a little angry that Alfred broke his promise. There was a sudden tug on his skirt, Ludwig looking down with a frown, only to smile when he realized it was just a child. More specifically, Julius. The toddler was wearing a matching outfit with the king, whereas the other wards wore very expensive silk tunic with flower crowns. Julius's pale blonde curls were no longer in the neat condition the stylist left it in, instead, there was cake frosting in it. Arthur excused himself from king Ludwig, the blond insisting he follow. "You might need help."

"Okay." The Queen held Julius's hand as he walked through the crowd, making his way to the tables. He took a random seat and sat Julius down beside him, frown when he saw the toddler's wet eyes. Arthur wiped at them. "What happened sweetie?" he asked gently, Julius sniffling. After a little prodding, the child relayed how he tripped on someone's dress and fell in his cake, all the other children laughing at him. The brit sighed. "At least your clothes aren't dirty." He muttered, the child standing up. The brit was going to ask where he was going, but the child was suddenly upon him, trying to crawl onto his lap. Arthur tried to scoop him up, but with him sitting on the chair, the crinoline made it impossible for the child to sit on him without damaging the contraption. Julius looked as if he were about to cry out, still trying desperately to reach the other's lap. The Queen stood up, ignoring the sad whine of the toddler, and picked him up. "Let's clean you up." He suggested, the child nodding.

All the while the German was watching the whole exchange, analyzing the situation. Arthur turned to see him staring, something almost malicious behind his eyes. The Queen excused himself once more, but this time, the German didn't demand to come, instead, when they walked far enough away, he began to follow.


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's note: As you all know, my story was first published about a little over a year ago. As you can tell, the brunt of the conflict has ended, and it is heading towards a speedy resolve. I'm here to inform you all that this will be my second to last author's note. I know this because I had just finished writing the last chapter to this story. It may seem unfinished to some of you guys, but that is intentional. I'll probably write a one shot about their lives a couple of years later, and answer some unresolved questions**.

Arthur frowned as he struggled to keep the whimpering toddler in his arms. The other royals were all staring at him, silently judging, probably assuming the child was his. He ignored the whispers, however, making his way out of the reception, heading up to his bed chambers. As the halls grew silent, a bad feeling overcame the brit. He suddenly stopped and looked around, holding Julius impossibly closer. He could see a shadow whip around the corner; he was being followed. He paused for a moment before continuing to his room, at a much faster rate. In fact, he was almost running, the toddler in his arms giggling. The brit couldn't hear anyone follow him, but he didn't want to slow down to check.

He had finally made it to his room, slamming the door and locking it. He breathed in and out heavily, putting Julius down. "Go wait for me in the bed." He ordered through broken breaths, the child complying obediently. Arthur slipped off his shoes, wiggling his toes in relief. Running in his heels made his feet go numb. He walked over to the bed, only to see Julius undressing. The brit sighed. "Sweetie, it's only 3 o'clock, it's not time for bed." He said softly, moving to put his green silk tunic back on him. The child shook his head, running around the king sized bed to evade the brit. "Julius~" Arthur called, trying to show the other that he was serious. The child still shook his head.

"I wanna look like mama." He pouted, the brit feeling his heart skip. The blonde little boy ran towards Arthur's dresser, pulling open the drawers. The brit took a seat on the bed, smiling.

"You want to look like me?" He asked, mystified. The child nodded his head. Arthur blushed. "I'm your mama?" The boy, once again, nodded. The brit tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "I'm going to call for the stylist-"

There was a sudden bang on the door, both blondes freezing in shock. Julius went to go open it, Arthur having to lurch forward and grab him. It has to be the one who was following him. The toddler looked at him in shock as Arthur rushed him into the bathroom, telling him to be quiet. The brit had no idea why he didn't hide in the bathroom with him, but the door was shaking under all that banging, the wooden frame looking as if it would burst from it's hinges. He couldn't let whoever it was find the both of them. He stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him, saying a soft prayer. He approached the door in acute fear, rushing over to his dresser to retrieve a dagger. It wasn't his first one, he had lost that in England, but rather it was one he had gotten from Chancy. It was a cursed weapon that left the enemy with chronic pain for an hour. He held it behind his back as he approached the door, calling out softly.

"Who is it?" he asked, the banging momentarily stopping, only for it to start up again, more fiercely. Arthur gasped , stumbling back in fear, tripping on his heels. He landed on backside, his dagger nicking his side. He swore, flinging the dagger away in shock. The door was loosening on it's hinges, the lock breaking. He crawled towards the bathroom in shock, what was- "Agghhh!" Arthur curled up into a ball, a pain shooting up from his side. He screamed in agony, the curse settling in. He could hear Julius begin to cry, the banging on the door finally stopping. Arthur attempted to get Julius, but he couldn't see straight, and every movement felt as if he was being skinned alive. He cried out again, the bathroom door swinging open, the toddler rushing out. Arthur gathered all of his strength to speak. "Hide... Please~" he begged, Julius staring at the tattered door in fear. The brit groaned. "Please Julius, hide for mama." He whimpered.

* * *

Alfred was in the middle of slow dancing with Gilbert when the doors of the great hall flung open, guards rushing in. The music stopped playing as the crowd of dancers parted, everyone looking around in shock. Alfred scanned the hall for Arthur... Arthur? Suddenly a sharp pain zapped through his body, the king gripping his head as he fell to his knees. Matthew was by his side in a second, however, the pain was just getting worse and worse, the king eventually screaming at the top of his lungs, rolled up into a ball, lying on his side. A small pair of hands began touching his shoulder, well, more like hitting, the king forcing his eyes open. Everything was blurry, his eyes streaming with tears. He blinked as much as he could, but each blink felt as if he was stabbing his eye lids. When his vision became semi-normal, he recognized his attacker to be Julius, who too looked as if he were in a lot of pain. Alfred sat up shakily, his skin feeling raw and battered. His senses weren't working, the boy looking as if he were yelling, but he couldn't hear him. The toddler kept on hitting him, Alfred growling in protest.

"Mama... ma..." Alfred could only hear every few syllables.

"Wah?" he groaned.

"Someone hurt mama! Mama's hurt!" he cried, his voice raw. Alfred rolled onto his stomach, forcing himself up. Julius grabbed his hand and began leading him, each step taking a huge toll on Alfred. The king only realized they were heading to his bedchamber when they were just down the hall, a crowd of palace personnel surrounding the door. Julius lead Alfred into the room, Arthur's wedding dress sprawled on the floor. For a moment, Alfred thought the worst had happened, rushing his way deeper into the chamber. He found Arthur on the bed, with a warm towel on his head. He would have lunged himself at the other, if his legs didn't give out.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Alfred woke up to the sound of soft sobbing. He squinted his eyes over to his side, to see Arthur snuggled up against his side. Who was crying? He looked around, glad to see the pain was gone completely, he wasn't even sore. He frowned. Then what was that? He shook his mate awake, who shot up.

"Julius!" Was the first thing he said. Alfred bit his lip. The brit threw his legs over the side of the mattress when he too noticed the crying. He slowly retreated back into bed, afraid. The king sighed, crawling out instead. The noise was coming from the bathroom. The American swore, baring his teeth.

"Who's in there?" He asked, pushing open the door. He looked inside to see a sobbing Julius curled up in a ball. Alfred didn't ask, not really having the energy. He scooped up the child and brought him to bed, Arthur sitting up in concern, opening his arms wide. The child then proceeded to bury himself in the blonde's chest, sobbing into his nightwear.

"I'm sorry mama!" The child cried, Arthur stroking his head. Alfred quirked a brow, unsure as to when he started to refer to Arthur as his mother. "You told me stay in the bathroom but I didn't. But you're not mad, right?" The brit scooted closer to his mate, sandwiching the child between them.

"Thank you for not listening to me." Arthur said softly. "Thank you for calling for help." He kissed the toddler on the head, the blond head of curls turning to face the king. Alfred rested his head on the child's chest, Julius laughing.

"I'm sorry for hitting you... daddy." The child whispered, the king feeling a warm sensation course through him. He felt the kid kiss the top of his head, and he blushed.

"I'm glad you did, otherwise I would have stayed on the floor." He thanked the other. "Did we scare you?" Alfred asked, looking up into the blue eyes of the other.

"Yes" he said meekly.

"We're sorry." Arthur said softly, stroking his hair. He sat up, stretching his arms above his head. "I don't think we've been asleep for a more than 2 hours." He frowned, yawning. "I don't think I want to go back though." Alfred sat up also, caressing the omega's face.

"What happened?" He mumbled, the brit looking down in guilt. Alfred waited patiently for him to answer, the brit sneezing.

"Well," he mumbled. "I was screwing around with that dagger-"

"The one Chancy gave you?" The king sighed. The frenchman had given the dagger to Arthur as a late birthday gift, advising the brit to practice with it sheathed before trying it on another person. The king scrunched up his nose, the pair never having an occasion to actually practice with it. He partly blamed himself, the brit honestly having no idea what he was doing, but then again, he knew he had no idea what he was doing. He was reckless. "Is the baby alright?" He asked quietly, the brit nodding.

"I can feel it's presence." He assured, the king sighing in relief. "I was going to use it in self defense. There was someone trying to break into the room, so I had Julius hide in the bathroom. I tripped and fell and cut myself with the knife. Then the banging stopped." He explained, blushing slightly. Alfred frowned. So that's why he was unconscious when he came. He had assumed the worse when he had seen his dress on the ground.

"Someone was trying to break in?" He began to hum, drifting into deep thought. Who would have known he was in here? Did they follow him? How? Why? He hardly noticed the child crawl underneath his blanket. Arthur stood up and went to the bathroom.

"I'm gonna attempt to fix my makeup." he muttered. Alfred remained on the bed, only mildly aware that he was half dressed. The child remained underneath the blanket, not making a sound. He was just balled up.

"Julius," the prince said without much thought, the child emerging from the blanket. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, the child nodding. "Did you see anyone suspicious?" The prince figured he'd cover all of his bases. The child didn't respond. The king quirked a brow, finding his silence odd. "Julius?" The blonde child began to pout, eyes glistening. Alfred tried to reached out to grab him before the child bursted out in tears, but the toddler was already crying. He was loud, very loud, Arthur emerging from the bathroom in concern.

"What did you do?!" He snapped, Alfred glaring at him in offense.

"Excuse me?!" Arthur walked over and scooped up the child, shooting Alfred a dirty look as he tried to calm him. "I only asked him a question!" He struggled to explain, Arthur ignoring him completely and taking the child into the bathroom with him.

"Do you wanna look like mama?" He asked in a soft voice, the toddler nodding as he caught his breath. "Okay, let's do our makeup." Alfred frowned. Make up?

"Can't you tell?" He asked suddenly, Arthur turning to look at him with mild annoyance.

"Can't I tell what?" Julius was sniffling in his arms, his entire face red. Alfred bit his lip. The child shouldn't be wearing makeup, it's clear that he's an alpha. The king wanted to tell his husband that putting makeup on an alpha child is seen as irresponsible and inappropriate, if they're male that is. However, Arthur looked upset already, and bring this up could anger him even more, and on their wedding day at that. He pouted. "Are you just going to keep staring?" The brit snapped, the king quirking a brow.

"Nevermind." he sighed bitterly, the brit continuing to the bathroom. The American just hoped that Arthur wouldn't be criticised to his face.

* * *

 **6 hours later...**

It was dinner now, the mood returning to it's light heartedness prior to the king's unexpected collapse. The food was exquisite, smoked ham, turkey, fresh bread, and platters of fresh fruits and vegetables. The king and his queen sat beside each other, Julius at the kiddy table with kids his own age. The toddler almost cried when the king told him to sit with his friends, the child claiming he didn't have any. Arthur suggested he sat with them, but Alfred could already feel the judgment in the air, he didn't want anyone to strike up a conversation about the child's makeup, or his background.

Alfred glanced over at Julius, who looked miserable amongst the other aristocratic children. The king groaned. He felt guilt creep into his heart, perhaps he should have let him sit with the adults. Arthur was currently talking to Chancy about the situation that played out earlier, the Frenchman in tears. He found it hilarious, so much so that he had almost choked 4 times. Arthur at first was offended, but eventually he began to dramatize the event to make the other omega laugh harder. Davie and Marshal were talking over the king, who pulled out of the conversion half an hour ago. The whole conversation was dumb really, what's the best way to clean a sword. The King initiated the discussion, but when he realized the pair were going in depth about where the go to get the supplies, and how long the should sit down and clean it, Alfred knew he opened a can of worms. Davie actually cleans his sword for 3 hours, just thinking about it makes the king frown. It was just so... extra. In total Alfred spends 5 hours cleaning and repairing his armor and swords. Like, seriously, he couldn't imagine cleaning one item for three hours.

The king brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, struggling to see the end of the table. His eyesight was just getting worse and worse. He bit his lips. The prospect of wearing those red glasses... he shivered. He used to pride himself for his eyes, and one would think that as a lycan, he would have amazing eyesight. However, since that side of him was unlocked, it eyesight had taken a turn for the worse. He found himself growing dependent on his glasses in his office, not being able to read fine print without it. He could, of course, just find a better pair of glasses, but the thing is... he didn't want to ask. He had gotten those glasses as a birthright, in case he needed them. No royal since his great, great, great, great, great grandfather Ulysses had worn glasses because royal are so insecure. So a secret pair was passed down to avoid embarrassment. The king found wearing the red glasses unbearable, though. He would have to suck up the pride from the last 7 generations and ask for new ones.

The thought of it made him panic slightly. It was still enough for Arthur to feel it, the blond suddenly looking at the American in concern. He shook his head, smiling, encouraging the other to continue his conversation. The American tried to distract himself, looking around the table of happy faces. He had made eye contact with Thomas, who was currently talking to Isabelle and Julia about who knows what. He smiled and waved, the king waving back with one of his best faux smiles, another shot of guilt hitting his heart. Tommie was so pure. His father is a beast, but Tommie was so pure. He wouldn't have felt as bad if Tommie hated his dad, but the two were as close as ever. Alfred was already settling on exile, but he could still see that shattering his friend. Maybe he should talk to his father, Charles, first. Get his side of things, seeing that the old man and his mother still talk on occasion. The queen-mother wasn't the type to let go of a grudge unless there was a real good reason.

He hadn't even noticed Thomas come over until Davie and Marshal yelled out his name, like the childish duo they were. He began to panic again, the brit turning to him once more in confusion. The king shook his head, turning to Tommie and beginning to chat. "What were you and the ladies talking about?" He asked, the knight pouting.

"They were criticizing my hat." Alfred looked up at the black feathered hat, pursing his lips.

"I don't know how I feel about it." he lied. The king knew full well that he hated the hat, however he hated pretty much all hats. Thomas shrugged.

"The one thing I've noticed while living in the palace all of my life, is that no one here, aside from my dear Annabelle, has a decent taste of fashionable headwear." Alfred nodded, realizing this conversation was going to head in a completely different direction from what the king was expecting. "However, let's not focus on me, it's your wedding night." He smiled brightly, the king having a brief flashback of when they were all kids. All young, pale, running around in the kitchen trying to steal bread. He shook his head, blinking wildly.

"Yep, it's my wedding night." He said, taking a sip of water from his cup. He couldn't drink wine or anything alcoholic, for Arthur's sake. He hadn't told Arthur yet, but they'd still need to consummate the marriage that night, under the supervision of the pastor, the priest, and the queen-mother. Of course they'll be a curtain, so they'll only see shadows, and they won't be there for the entire time, just the for the first 3 minutes or so. At least that's what John had told him. The king was made aware of that early that morning, he couldn't find the right time to bring it up. Matter of fact, he couldn't find the right time to bring many things up. He still hadn't told Arthur what Earl had told him about the council. He pursed his lips, Thomas smirking.

"Oh c'mon, it wouldn't be your first time with him, so don't be nervous." He declared, the king hushing him in annoyance. The king told him. "You haven't told him yet? You do realize he could be using this time to prepare." He mumbled. The king shook his head.

"I was advised not to. The pastor needs to see a bloodstain or some bullshit." He said in his defense, the knight shrugging.

"Your husband, not mine." He took Alfred's glass and sipped from it, recoiling when he realized it was water. "It's your wedding night, so drink!" He downed the rest of the water, and poured some wine in his glass. "Here." Alfred groaned, taking a sip. He hummed.

"It's really good, holy shit." he whispered, taking another sip. Thomas nodded.

"I had placed an order 2 months ago, while you went back to England. The wine is over 2 centuries old." He explained, Alfred giving him a quick thank you. It was so rich, Alfred would have drank straight from the bottle if he weren't at such a formal event. "Aren't I perfect?" Tommie asked, Marshall interrupting with a quick 'no'. The two began to argue, like they always do, Davie turning his attention to the king.

"Are you okay?" he asked, the king nodding. "Good, but you should refrain from drinking." The 2nd in command already knew about the king's situation. The king being drunk could prove a threat to Arthur's safety while they consummated, seeing that he wouldn't be allowed to be prepared. He didn't want to be too rough and tear him too bad. Alfred took one last sip of the wine, well gulp, and placed the cup down.

"Now all that's left is your wedding." Alfred said randomly, Davie sucking his teeth. "What?"

"Ní sin ... phrioctha inconsiderate ag iarraidh a bheith pósta cé tá sé ag iompar clainne gheall ar dóigh leis go mbainfidh sé ag breathnú saill." He spat, the king raising his eyebrows.

"I understood one of those words. 'inconsiderate'. Can you translate the rest?" He picked at his food, filling his cup with tea.

"He thinks he'll look fat if we got married while he's pregnant." He translated. Alfred turned to look at Chancy, who was barely showing.

"You can hardly tell he's pregnant since...you know." He said, turning to his friend. Davie looked confused, but nodded anyway. "You guys can have it within the next 2 months or so, I doubt he'll be showing all that much."

"I know right!" he said a little too loudly, the pair of omegas turning to look at them. Arthur turned back around, but Chancy was still eyeing them blankly, perhaps already knowing what was getting Davie all worked up. Arthur turned to look at the alphas again, shooting them a confused look. Davie slowly looked away from them, Alfred doing the same. The two looked at each other awkwardly before laughing it off.

"That could have ended badly." Alfred chuckled. "But tell him that you guys can do it as soon as possible. Who knows what will happen if you wait too long." Davie nodded grimly. "Anyways~," The king changed the subject. "How was your night? How you doing?" He took another bite of his food. Davie smiled.

"Despite you scaring the shit out of me with your whole collapse, I'm swell." He chuckled, but Alfred could almost hear the panic. He patted Davie's shoulder.

"Relax, I'm indestructible." He assured, the knight frowning.

"Yeah, only when you're prepared. You didn't look very indestructible today. A lot of royals were ready to run off and go home. That scared them a whole lot." He explained, Alfred shrugging.

"Less people, more food for me." He scoffed, the knight shrugging.

"I guess... fatass."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

 **That night...**

Alfred was in a panic, Davie and Thomas calming him down. Alfred was in rut, for the first time in years. This was bad, very bad.

"Just do your best not to hurt him." Tommie advised, the king glancing at him in shock.

"I'll do my best." he shuddered, Davie patting him.

"Lube, lots of lube." Alfred shook his head.

"The freaking pastors won't let me prepare him. I told John to tell them I'm in rut, but I doubt that'll do anything." The grandfather clock chimed midnight, the king wincing. "I have to go."

"You'll be fine." Tommie said softly, but he didn't sound very sure. Davie stood next to him, nodding in uncertainty.

* * *

 **Arthur's POV...**

His cheeks were on fire as he waited for Alfred. He sat naked by the head of the bed, surrounded by curtains, and moist. He had told Chancy of his predicament, who slipped him a small dose of some stimulant. Chancy said the most it will do is make him lubricate. The queen-mother, the priest, and pastor were standing in the corner of the room, silently waiting for the king to come. According to the pastor, the king was in rut, for the first time in years, so he allowed Arthur to briefly prepare himself. A whole generous 3 minutes, as if that would do much to prepare him. The curtains were kinda thin, so they were still able to see Arthur's shadow if he had tried to go over the time limit. The brit cursed himself as he waited.

How could Alfred keep something like this to himself? The brit, just thinking about it, was on the verge of tears. He was scared, and he was embarrassed. No one had told him about any of this before. He sighed, saying a light prayer. He stopped when he suddenly felt his mate's presence draw closer. "He's coming." He informed the witnesses, the door slowly cracking open. The first thing Arthur was greeted with was his alpha's odor. It was thick, and the pheromones made his glands moisten. He began to pant as he heard his mate undress. He laid down on his back, moaning softly. The curtain on one side was lifted, revealing a completely naked king with a fully erect member. His eyes, though hooded, failed to mask his desire, his blue orbs dilating at the sight of his omega.

Alfred crawled into bed, pulling the curtain closed behind him. He crawled over the brit, burying his tongue in the slits of his glands. The englishman gasped softly, running his hands through the other's hair, tugging it lightly. Alfred growled, sending waves of desire through Arthur. He continued to lick his gland, reaching down slowly and cupping the other's member. The king stroked him as he nibbled on the brit's neck, the omega moaning shamelessly. The king pulled away and began to stare down at his meal. He was sitting back on his heels as his large hands grabbed the other's hips, dragging him closer. The brit struggled to stay calm as he was forcefully aligned with the other's member. The queen gulped.

"Alfred." He whimpered, getting the other's attention. "I don't think I'm ready." Arthur felt his eyes water. He was so afraid, needed more than a little gland tickling, he needed preparation. The king stared down at him, eyes flashing with pity.

"If you want to be his husband you'd better suck it up." The queen-mother spoke up, the clergymen hushing her. "Oh, don't hush me! If you can't handle his rut, you can't be his husband." Arthur clenched his jaw, refraining from cursing the woman out. He looked up at Alfred, who had a dark look in his eyes, probably holding himself back. Arthur closed his eyes, wiggling away from the alpha. The American grabbed his thighs, pulling him back. Arthur whimpered as he struggled to get away, begging him.

"Hey, look at me." Alfred said, leaning over his mate. Arthur kept his eyes closed, tears rolling down his cheeks as their foreheads touched. "Don't cry, I'll prepare you." He reached down slowly, inserting a finger. The brit slowly opened his eyes as another finger was inserted. "That's right, look at me." Arthur looked him in the eyes, moaning as he was stretched. He gripped the sheets as he threw his head back, a weight lifted off his shoulders. After a few more thrusts, the clergymen spoke up.

"You must consummate." The pastor said bluntly. "You can proceed how you wish after we leave." Alfred grunted as he pulled away, aligning his member with his entrance. Arthur narrowed his eyes at the ceiling. He braced himself as the king pushed in, the brit hissed, trying to close his legs instinctively. Alfred pulled them apart, and continued to push in, only getting about half way before Arthur screamed. He felt it, he felt something tear.

"OW!" he shrieked, the American pausing in shock. The priest spoke up this time.

"If you stop now, you'll never be able to continue. Don't drag out the pain." he advised, Alfred staring at the curtain in confusion. Arthur panted under him, praying softly. Alfred leaned over him once more, kissing his forehead.

"I'm sorry, but they're right." He muttered, Arthur looking up at him in pain. He shook his head, the alpha growling at him, forcing him into submission. The brit tried not to fight as the prince pushed in the rest of the way, but he screamed silently in protest. He stayed extremely still as Alfred panted over him, his odor washing over the brit once more, lubricating himself. Arthur's head lolled to the side as tears streamed down his cheeks. He didn't like this feeling of forced entry, of forced compliance. Alfred stroked his cheek as he patiently waited, but since he was in rut, he wouldn't be able to hold it up forever. In fact he was already shaking.

"We don't have all day." the queen-mother groaned, sounding almost angry.

Alfred began to move, Arthur using all of his strength to pull away. Alfred grabbed him in time however, and pulled him back roughly with a growl, thrusting rapidly. Arthur's heart felt as if it has stopped beating, his eyes rolling inside his head. He opened his mouth and tried to scream, but he had nowhere near as much strength to pull that off. "p...please." He pleaded in breathless whispered, eyes streaming as he, practically blind, held onto his mate. "o-oh god... it hurts... be gentle..." Alfred slowed down, his own eyes wet and miserable. He thrusted once more, hitting the brit's prostate, making him moan. He hit it again, and again, the brit moaning louder and louder, despite himself wanting this to be over and forgotten about.

After what felt like forever, Arthur felt his lower abdomen constrict, having him release all over himself. The moment he did, Alfred pulled out, sitting back silently. "We're done." He muttered, standing up. "When you leave, send for a maid to give us some salve." He ordered, stumbling over to the bathroom. Arthur rolled over to his side, struggling to keep his composure. He looked down at the sheets, almost gagging at the sight of how much blood he had lost. The curtain of the bed was moved slightly, enough for the clergymen to see the bloodstain and nothing else.

"We'll send for the salve." The queen-mother said softly, leaving the room along with the other two men. As the door clicked closed, Arthur felt his conscious slipping. Though he knew the other was in the bathroom relieving himself, he still felt like a cumrag. He mumbled bitterly to himself when the bathroom door opened, the omega growling at his alpha. Alfred growled back. The brit flinched away, not making eye contact with the other.

"Go wash up." The king said, the brit shaking his head.

"You did this to me!" He snapped. "You did this, so now you need to live with it!" Alfred shot him an incredulous look, walking around the bed in anger.

"I didn't want to do this!" He shot back. "I d-didn't plan on this, I didn't want you to get hurt!" Arthur cursed at him, the king looking at him in shock. Alfred bit his lip, nodding his head and walking off. "Get up, I'm changing the sheets." He ordered, yanking at the fabric, the queen refusing to comply. "Arthur, get up." He order, the brit ignoring him. "I beg you-" the brit scoffed, eyes wet as he turned to face his mate. He's begging!?

"Just like I had begged you!?" he screamed. "To slow down?!" Alfred opened his mouth, but the brit cut him off. "No! Shut up! You're my husband, you're not supposed to force yourself on me! I don't care if it was consummation, you sorry sack-" He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Alfred walked over to the door, opened it, and without a word, took the salve, and closed it. He placed it on the bed before walking over to the dresser, taking out some clothes. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Where are yo-"

"I'm leaving." He said softly, pulling on a shirt. "Please take care of yourself, okay? Apply the salve every 3 hours on a clean wound, so, you need to clean yourself thoroughly with a rag. You should be fine by-" He was interrupted by a slap across the face, the omega looking up at him with wide wet eyes.

"Leaving?" he hissed. Alfred looked to the side. "In the middle of a rut?" Alfred scoffed.

"What am I gonna spend it in the bathroom?" He yelled, the brit not believing his ears.

"S-so you'd s-spend it with a whore!?" Alfred bit his lips, looking down at the omega. They stared at each other, the king shaking his head slowly.

"I was going to stay in my office." He whispered meekly, Arthur rubbing at his arms. "You obviously don't want me-

"I want you to apologize!" He sobbed, storming away. "But if you can't see what you've done, you might as well leave!" Alfred stared as the brit went to the bathroom. Arthur hopped into the tub, hissing as the cool water washed over him. He bathed quickly, wanting to see if his beloved husband actually left him. 30 minutes later, once he had washed himself thoroughly, he forced himself to stand, his backside pulsating. Each step hurt as he left the room, sighing in relief when he saw Alfred, dressed in his pajamas. The bedsheets were changed, the curtain was fixed, and there was a platter of food on the bed, the king nibbling on some cookies.

"I love you." The king started, Arthur walking over to him. They wrapped their arms around each other, kissing each other. "I'm sorry." He whispered, Arthur sighing. "I'm sorry for hurting you, like that. As your alpha, that was an incredibly awful thing of me to do, and though, I don't expect you to just forgive me like that, but with time, I would hope-"

"I forgive you" the brit said softly. "I'm too young to hold a grudge against you." Alfred shook his head.

"No, no, no. You can't do that, you can't forgive me, I'm an awful-"

"Alfred, just forget about it. Today wasn't a very day, despite the amazing morning." He picked up a cookie and took a bite. "I love you, and as long as you promise to stop when I express my discomfort, I see no problem forgiving you and moving past this. But if you do it again, I'll probably hate you forever." He warned, the king nodding.


	43. Chapter 43

**2 months later...**

Arthur groaned as he rolled over, restless. He tried to listen to the soft snores of his husband and their son, adopted son, Julius, to try and lull himself back to sleep, but it was hopeless. It was the middle of the night, and uncomfortably warm september night, and his stomach hasn't been agreeing with him for the last few days. Nothing would stay down, and if it did, it felt like rock in his gut, making him sleepless. He stuck his hand off of the bed, sighing at the familiar cool sensation of Smudge, the white dog that was gifted to him by the council, licking him. Arthur didn't want Smudge at first, but Julius and Alfred were just in love with the big white dog, so Arthur had no choice but to keep it. This dog, however, proved to be the first of many gifts.

Currently in their castle, there is a room designated for the gifts sent by Fulgur, the leader of this council. So far, Arthur was given a massive amount of toys for the baby and Julius, some maternity clothing, a few baby outfits, dressers, changing tables, decorations, and children's books, obviously meant for the nursery. Arthur was now four months pregnant, not feeling very spectacular in any way. Alfred has been showering him in affection, especially since he began to show about a month ago. At first the brit liked it, and he would use it to his advantage in order to get away with certain things, but now it has gotten to the point where he'd prefer the nonchalant Alfred. His husband was was too doting, and clingy.

Julius has been a sweetheart on the other hand. Arthur had no complaints about him at all, well... maybe one. Julius was just too... asocial. He wouldn't talk to any of the aristocratic kids at all, so whenever there was a meeting or a get together, he was cling to either his mother or his father. He wouldn't even glance at the other kids. Alfred has tried to be strict about it, but Julius's behavior towards the other kids wouldn't change, he'd just make it known how much he hated them through body language. He wouldn't even talk to the palace wards often, a few words every now and then, but he hadn't retained any friendships from when he was in the system. Arthur has tried his hand at things too, by scheduling play dates with his friends' children, but it would only drive the other kids away. Julius, as put by Mary, was a 'rag doll'. He would just sit there silently and stare blankly.

Arthur groaned again, but this time about his thoughts. He shouldn't be too hard and his family, Arthur wasn't perfect either. He was incredibly indecisive now, and in the middle of meals he would push his plate away, suddenly craving something else. Of course he wouldn't always voice his new cravings, and later on as a result he would either puke, or become restless in the night. Like now. He sat up, trying not to disturb the others sleeping on the bed. Arthur held onto his developing breasts because they were bothering him. These milk sacks weren't very heavy, rather they were just annoying. Julius was sleeping with them because he didn't like his room, which threw him off because they had just remodelled the room for him. Alfred wanted to press on the topic, but the queen advised him otherwise, it being too late to play 20 questions.

"Mama?" Arthur glanced down to see the toddler sit up beside him. "Do you need me to get a bucket?" The queen smiled softly.

"No thank you, sweetie." He caressed the other's cheek. "Why are you up?" he asked, the child shrugging.

"Why are you up?" Arthur scoffed.

"I'm an adult, that's why." He explained. Julius looked up at him in shock before scowling.

"Well, if that were true, then I wouldn't be up." He said astutely. Arthur chuckled again, the two blondes succumbing to a fit of laughter.

"SHHHHH!" Arthur snapped his neck in time to see Alfred reaching over and lighting a candle.

"Sorry daddy." Julius began to lie down, still chuckling. Alfred narrowed his eyes at them, staring them down menacingly. However the brit knew full well that the American just couldn't see them. The king grunted, moving to blow out the candle. "Wait." Alfred turned to the child once again. "Mama can't sleep." he tattled, the queen sighing. Alfred was suddenly upright, stretching, ready to do something. What? Arthur didn't know.

"Are you o-" Arthur placed a finger on his lips, stopping him.

"Stop, I'm fine. I'm just not tired anymore." Arthur explained, but the king looked skeptical. "I mean it! I took like 4 naps today." Alfred nodded, probably a little too tired to argue.

"Well then," He started, rubbing at his eyes. "What are you going to do?" Arthur shrugged.

"Stare at the ceiling."

"That's boring." Julius mumbled, Alfred nodding in agreement. Julius gasped suddenly, jumping to his feet, rushing out of the bed. "I know, I know, I know! We can play in the gardens." He suggested, the adults in the room immediately shutting it down.

"No, bud, that's dangerous." Alfred reasoned, the queen nodding in solidarity. Julius pouted as he stomped back towards the bed.

"But it's pretty out there." He whined, Alfred shaking his head.

"In the morning, maybe. You still have to catch up on some assignments." The king said sternly, Julius scowling at him.

"Homework is dumb! Why do I need to read dumb books?" He shot, the king taken aback. Alfred began to hum, the child slowly crawling back into bed. Alfred cleared his throat.

"Firstly, they are bible scriptures. Secondly, you need to get the pastor's approval before you're allowed to be a squire. If you don't do this, you can't be a knight-"

"Okay daddy!" The child snapped, throwing the covers over his head. Alfred groaned, annoyed.

"Just like your mother." He muttered, Arthur shooting him a cross look. "Just kidding."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

 **That morning...**

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, bracing himself.

"How dare you compare Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, to that petty poet Shakespeare?" The pastor snapped at the blonde child sitting in the front row. The other children began to giggle as Julius shrugged defiantly. "Listen close young man," the old pastor started. "The word of God isn't something you should mock so readily." The blond child wasn't phased, and instead proceeded to look down at his bible. The queen groaned, Julia patting his shoulder in sympathy. Their kids were in the same bible class, Julius, despite his age, being a very strong reader: a 4 year old in a class full of 6 year olds. This was the first time Arthur has seen Julius interact in class, being approached this morning by the pastor. He had begged him to attend, hoping that his presence would make the child better behaved.

"I had no idea he behaved like this." He muttered. "Why is he so rude?" Julia bit her lip, shrugging.

"Maybe you should do something?" She suggested. Arthur scoffed.

"I'll just let Alfred handle this." He shrugged, the woman shaking her head.

"Alfred isn't here right now. You need to tame your child, you adopted him. He's a representation of the crown now." She advised. Arthur frowned, knowing full well that she was right. Arthur cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. There were only about 20 or so kids in the room, and about 6 clergy members. The brit, dressed in Alfred's sunday clothing, walked to the front of the small group of kids. He picked up a bible, but he kept it closed as he recited.

"'If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son who will not obey the voice of his father or the voice of his mother, and, though they discipline him, will not listen to them, then his father and his mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his city at the gate of the place where he lives, and they shall say to the elders of his city, 'This our son is stubborn and rebellious; he will not obey our voice; he is a glutton and a drunkard.' Then all the men of the city shall stone him to death with stones. So you shall purge the evil from your midst, and all Israel shall hear, and fear.' Deuteronomy 21, lines 18 through 21." The class turned to that page, impressed that he had said it word for word. "The bible was a major part of my childhood, and just recently I've been reintroduced with devotion to my faith." He was fibbing a bit, only knowing the lines because he had read it when he was bored. "We should all strive to be good christians," he made eye contact with Julius, who looked at him in confusion. "But making jokes and laughing at the expense of learning the words of God will only spite you in the afterlife. No, we cannot stone you for misbehaving, but there are a wide array of punishments that can be used to discipline a disobedient child." Julius pouted. "So behave." He handed the bible back to the pastor, who took it gratefully.

~~~~Wounded KNIGHT~~~

"I said I'm fine." Alfred grunted, stretching. He was chuckling, but everyone around him was terrified. The young king had almost walked himself off the balcony, which was on the highest tower. If Marshal weren't there to grab him, he would have surely plummeted to his death. Arthur was out of breath, having ran all the way up there. Alfred was trying to tell everyone to calm down, but it didn't stop the maids from freaking out.

"Was he trying to fall?" Arthur heard one of them whisper. He sucked his teeth, rushing over to his mate. Alfred pecked him on the cheek, Arthur clinging to his chest.

"Where on Earth are your glasses?!" He shouted, the king shrugging. "What do you me-'

"I left them in the treasure room, so I was trying to get to them. I thought I was going in the right direction." He explained, loud enough for the people to hear.

"How poor is his eyesight?" Someone asked, the king pursing his lips.

"I don't know, but it's getting worse." He admitted. "I think I need another eye appointment." Arthur nodded.

"But for now, wear your glasses." He sent a maid to retrieve them. When she returned with the red glasses, Arthur put them on the other, the prince blinking rapidly. "Better?" The brit asked, the king shrugging.

"Everything is still blurry. Not as much, but it's still blurry." He complained. Arthur bit his lip, perhaps there was a spell that could help him.

"Let's just go somewhere safe for the meanwhile, alright?" The queen suggested, the king nodding.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Chancy gazed into the king's eyes, searching them for something. The Frenchman blew at his eyes, the king closing them briefly.

"This is stupid." He said finally, the room hushing him. Davie was currently polishing the red glasses.

"I think you're going blind." Chancy deadpanned, Arthur, who was sipping some tea, sputtering it out. Alfred didn't react, the king and the French ambassador making intense eye contact before they both cracked a smile, laughing lightly. "Just kidding." Chancy said sweetly, Alfred wagging a finger at him.

"That's not funny at all, what the fuck!?" Arthur snapped, the frenchman apologizing.

"I'm sorry." He continued to gaze into the king's eyes. "But, going blind could be a possibility." Alfred frowned, and Chancy explained. "Were you recently cursed?" Alfred shook his head. "Were you cursed within the last year?" he asked, the prince shaking his head.

"I was never cursed." He asserted, the brit making a sound of doubt.

"I don't think that's true." He stood up from the couch. "Remember that death curse in the Fortress?" he asked, the prince shaking his head. "Well, do you remember your elf ears on the boat?" He asked, and the king's eyes lit up in shock, turning to Chancy.

"I was cursed!" He corrected, the Frenchman nodded slowly, walking away.

"So, it must be the last of the curse trying to kill what it can. I'll just make you some medicine to counteract it." Chancy started, the prince humming in gratitude. The brit had a sneaking feeling that wouldn't solve the problem.

"But," he started. "Would it work on non-humans?" Chancy quirked a brow.

"Are you sick too?" he asked, the brit shaking his head. Alfred hummed.

"That's a good point." he admitted. "Would it help a lycan?" he asked, Chancy staring at them in confusion.

"It should work for anyone... wait," he turned to the king. "You're a lycan?" He looked shocked, as expected, and the king nodded. "Woah, I've never met one before!"

"Well then today's your lucky day!" Davie said, the first thing he's said. Chancy ignored him, walking over to his workbench and beginning to make the medicine.

"Sweetie, can you pass me that thing?" he asked, Davie shooting him a confused look. Chancy groaned. "That thing you always use when you grind things up."

"The mortar and pestle?" Davie asked, handing the small bowl and pounder to the frenchman. "You're welcome." He muttered, the omega shooting him a dirty look.

"Not now, Davie." He muttered, the alpha sighing, muttering something under his breath. Davie walked over to his best friend, a hesitant smile on his face.

"Do you eat rabbits? I mean raw?" The doctor asked the king, who chuckled tiredly.

"I hunt them down whenever I get the chance. The baby ones taste the best!" he joked, the queen gagging. Davie made a face as he laughed.

"Ewww!" He started. "Can you transform at will?" he asked, the king pausing for a moment.

"I've been practicing, but I can only ever manage to transform my arms." He held out his arm, pulling up the sleeve. He clenched his muscles, blonde fur sprouting from his skin, his nails elongating and sharpening. Davie and Chancy were at a loss for words, watching in awe as his arm shifted.

"HOLYSHITOHMYGODYOUARESOCOOLICANNOTBELIEVETHISOHMYGODOHMYGOD!" Davie began prodding at his arm, squeezing and lifting it. "It's so heavy!" he was excited now, the poor researching having nothing much to do for the last few weeks. "Would you mind donating some blood? I want to see if it's distinguishable from human blood." Alfred shrugged. "It's not alot." He assured, rushing to his desk to get a small flask and a small scalpel. He returned to the king, who still held his arm up, pressing the sharp surface against his skin, drawing blood. The warm red liquid slid into the flask, maybe about 3 ounces being collected before Davie began applying pressure to it. "That should do." He returned to his desk, topping the flask, and offering some sterilizer for the wound.

"I'll be fine, I'll just lick it." The king waved him off, but the queen shook his head, instructing Davie to apply it on the wound. The 2nd in command did so liberally, the King chuckling. "It tickles." He mumbled, Davie snorting.

"That's what he said." He snickered, the king snickering along with him, leaving the two omegas mildly annoyed. Chancy, who was in a particularly bad mood, cleared his throat.

"I'm a busy person," He started, "Now please." He grabbed the paste, which he had put in a small jar. He handed it to the king, shooing his mate away. "Rub this on your face at night, every night, until its done. You should be able to receive results fairly quickly, but if you don't... I have a friend." The King nodded, looking down at the pink cream. It smelt of lavender.

"A friend?" He questioned, the frenchman shrugging.

"My mother, really." he explained. "She's been alive for centuries, she'll know what to do if all else fails." The king nodded, turning to Davie.

"Does she like you?" He asked to start conversation. Davie paused for a bit, a thin smile spreading across his face. Chancy stiffened also looking at Davie, an unreadable expression.

"We've never met." He said tightly, and obvious lie. His mouth and left eye twitched, the knight's telltale signs of dishonesty. Alfred quirked a brow, but the knight just gazed at him, with albeit hurt eyes. The King just decided to drop the subject.

"Well, that's too bad." He turned over to Chancy. "It's only appropriate to introduce your parents to your mate." Chancy looked taken aback.

"With all due respect, your highness." He started. "I know what my mate can and can't handle, and he cannot handle my mother. At least not yet." He explained. "She'll feed on his kindness, and I wouldn't be able to stop her, even if I tried. So, it's easier to just prevent her from coming." He said vaguely. Davie stood up, stretching.

"I'm gonna pick up Geoffrey." He declared. Chancy gave him a small peck on the cheek, the alpha huffing. "Is that all I get?" he asked playfully, the frenchman smirking.

"Later, I promise." He said with a slight blush. Davie nodded and he left, on a journey to Julia's room to get the child.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Arthur and Alfred sat silently in their bed as Julius did his homework on the couch. The child was in trouble for his behavior in bible study, the queen telling his husband about what had happened. The child was obviously annoyed, mumbling under his breath, just loud enough for them to hear his tone, but not his words. Every now and then Alfred would hum, and the child would grow silent, but Julius would always start talking again. After the 5th time, the king had had enough.

"Julius," He snapped, the child slowly turning to glare at him. Alfred glared right back at him, unblinkingly. Arthur groaned, not really caring about what was about to happen. "For the last time be quiet or else." He warned, his son huffing. "Julius, I'm serious." He said sternly, the child groaning.

"I didn't even do anything." He grumbled.

"I can tell," Alfred started. "Your page is probably blank." Julius stiffened, and Arthur narrowed his eyes. There was no way Alfred would be able to see that from there, but the way the child froze made it obvious he was right. "You've been there for an hour, and you did nothing. You're only wasting your own time."

"Bible study is a waste of time." Julius proclaimed, the king closing his eyes. "It's dumb, God isn't real. Miracles aren't real." He stood up, kicking away the bible. "I don't wanna read about fake things! I wanna read about fun things." Alfred scrunched up his nose, closing his own book. Arthur grabbed his forearm, in a weak attempt to calm him down.

"Come here." The king commanded, the toddler stomping over. Julius stood defiantly beside the bed where his father sat, eyeing him with contempt. "What's wrong with you?" he asked harshly, the toddler pouting. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but Alfred continued. "Why are you getting so fussy?" He said softly, catching the others off guard. Julius shook his head.

"I'm not!"

"Yes you are." Alfred scratched his chin. "You just kicked the bible, and called organized religion stupid." He pointed out, the child looking him up and down. "You're upsetting me." The toddler looked down. "This is very disappointing behavior, and I am beginning to regret not being more strict with you." Arthur bit his lip at how calm Alfred was, and noted the deterioration of Julius' resolve and attitude, replaced by red cheeks and red eyes. "Julius, your behavior is not fit for a prince, so you need to start shaping up, and the first place to do that is in Bible study. Apologize to your teachers tomorrow, and show that you're improving by handing in your homework." He said softly, the child shaking his head.

"No! NO! NonOnoNo!" Alfred tilted his head as the toddler bounced in place, throwing a tantrum. "I don't wanna!" he began to sob. The king frowned, glancing at his husband before pulling the child onto his lap. Julius cried there for a moment before scrambling for Arthur. The queen rocked the child softly, trying to calm his jarring cries. Alfred looked a little remorseful, the brit could tell, but the queen found nothing wrong with what Alfred said. Perhaps julius didn't understand all of the words, and assumed the worse? Nah, Julius wouldn't cry if he was confused.

"Baby what's wrong?" Arthur asked softly, the child still sobbing. Alfred ran his fingers through the little boy's hair, who in turn looked up at him, shooting his arms up. The king groaned, standing and taking the boy, beginning to slowly walk around the room. Julius cried on his father's shoulders for was Arthur felt was 5 minutes before he actually calmed down enough to speak.

"Why are you upset? Use your words, you're a smart boy." Alfred questioned, the child nodding.

"M-my old mommy and daddy didn't like religion." He answered softly, Arthur nodding his head in understanding. The brit never thought the answer would be found his past. All Arthur knew was that Julius's old home was abusive, and that his parents had set their own home on fire in order to sacrifice themselves and their 7 kids to Satan. Julius managed to escape the building with his younger sister, but she caught pneumonia the next following weeks and died. The boy was forced to join a gang of orphan kids, and was in the process of stealing bread when he was taken to the palace to live. The parents were satanists, and they would use their kids as a way to show their devotion to Lucifer, whether through beatings or cutting. Julius might still hold some of those twisted beliefs.

"But you're not with your old mama and daddy, you're with your new mama and daddy." Alfred started, Julius wiping his tears on the king's shirt. "We took you in to be our son, so you never need to worry about what your old parents might think of your actions. They were bad people, and they did bad things to you and your siblings. They forced you to participate in bad things. Now... I won't force you to be a practicing protestant, but you at least need to be baptized."

Julius sniffled to himself as Alfred passed him over to the queen. "Sweetie," Arthur started. "We love you, and we don't want to make you uncomfortable." Julius nodded, regaining his composure. "Just know your old parents can never hurt you again. They cannot control your life any longer. With that being said, now that you are in a safe space with people who love you, you can be a little more open minded, and willing to try taking in a little bit of bible study." Julius nodded, defeated. "So stop crying, mommy's gonna make it better." The queen shimmied down on his back, tucking the child in beside him. Julius curled up onto his side, breathing shakily. Alfred left the room for a moment to order food, and came back quickly. He silently slipped into bed and stroked Julius's hair, the child crawling over to his father, resting his face on his chest.

"I don't wanna go tomorrow." He said suddenly, the king pursing his lips.

"Okay." He figured he'd be a bit more lenient considering the little fit. "You'll spend the day with me."


	44. Chapter 44

**4 months later...**

Arthur groaned as waddled down the halls, Julius next walking beside him, holding the care package. Chancy has been in labor for the last 4 hours, and apparently he's doing great. Davie is the one delivering the baby, and Arthur's going to be with Chancy as support. He had just arrived to the castle, he and Alfred just returning from a long day in the city. He was informed by Julia that Chancy's water had broke in the middle of their picnic, and that he was rushed to Davie's office. Arthur was about 4 hours late, but it's not like a lot could happen in 4 hours. He finally made it to the office door, grabbing the care package from Julius, and ordering him to go to his father. The child shrugged, walking off to the king's solar.

Arthur knocked on the door before opening it, instantly greeted with stifled cries of pain. He slid in and closed the door behind him, announcing himself. "I'm so sorry I'm late." He said quickly, rushing to the frenchman's side. Davie nodded at him messaged Chancy's hips.

"He's having contractions." He explained. Arthur looked down at his friend, who's face was beet red as wet with tears. His eyes were closed shut, and his whole body was convulsing. Arthur shivered. It looked like it hurt, a lot. "I'm gonna need your help in preparing him for surgery." Arthur nodded, glad he was wearing Alfred's clothes rather than his own. Because Chancy was a male, he didn't have a vagina, and therefore couldn't give birth naturally. Davie would have to slice him open and retrieve the baby, and sew him back up. Arthur has been mentally preparing himself for this, but seeing his friend in the position first freaked him out. Is there no other way to give birth to this baby?

"Or you can make an incision on the perineum." Davie and Arthur jumped, snapping their heads at the unfamiliar voice. Arthur couldn't believe his eyes, and Davie looked confused.

"Who are you?" He growled, taking a threatening step towards the mystery woman.

"I'm Iridessa." He answered casually, striding over to Chancy, placing a slender hand on his forehead. "Sweetie, are you okay?" She asked, Chancy opening his eyes slowly. "Don't worry, mama's here." Arthur could see Davie's contort into that of severe annoyance, the queen clearing his throat.

"You said something about making an incision. Where?" Arthur asked, the beautiful pale woman turning to him slowly. Her long ice blonde hair landed around her thighs, her full lips pulled into a thin smile.

"It's been a while, Arthur." She embraced him, before turning to Davie. "And you must be my son's mate." She said coldly. Davie didn't look phased in the least bit.

"Yep," He began to rub his tools with alcohol. "And if you'd excuse me, I need to perform a procedure." He walked past the woman without so much as a glance and began to gently pull up Chancy's surgical dress to reveal his large belly. He began to rub Chancy down with the alcohol, the omega still groaning in pain. Iridessa rolled her eyes.

"My son doesn't need to be cut open. Neither does any omega male. Allow the child to be released naturally by creating a channel through which it can pass." Davie frowned at her.

"Infants range from3 to 6 pounds" Davie sighed. "Men don't have the same elasticity as women, and therefore the pain is much worse, and the likelihood of complications triple. A little cut on the perineum isn't going to substitute for a vagina, which is why were are going to extract it, just like I have for numerous amounts of births for male omegas." He crossed his arms in challenge, the beautiful witch raising a brow.

"Oh, so you are an expert?"

"No, but neither are you. So please, ma'am let me do my job." He turned back to his task, casually talking to Chancy and explaining what was going to happen. "i'm gonna cut you open, but only enough for my hands to enter your womb. It shouldn't take more than an hour. It's going to hurt very much, I just want you to know that." Chancy looked at him with terrified eyes.

"Is there," the omega croaked. "No other way to do this?" Davie shook his head.

"They're too risky." He reasoned, but Chancy looked at his mother, who was sitting on a chair, reading a book. "She wants you to give birth naturally." Davie informed, the Frenchman crying out in grief.

"Oh God?! Why me!?" he threw his head back down towards his pillow, Davie stroking his face. The alpha lifted his marker and began to draw dotted lines on the places he was going to cut. Chancy was becoming increasingly more restless before he sat up again. "I'll do it naturally. I don't wanna get cut up." Daie was about to argue, but then Iridessa stood up, pushing Davie aside.

"I'll make the first cut." He hiked Chancy's legs up and forced him to relax. Davie growled, his mate stiffening.

"Baby I'm sorry, but please let this go." He panted as his mother cut the perineum vertically and horizontally, in an x pattern. Chancy hissed, calling out Davie's name, reaching out his hand. Davie took it reluctantly, allowing himself to be demoted to a stress ball. Iridessa smirked as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

"On the count of three, start to push." Chancy nodded, Arthur inching closer to Iridessa, curious. The area was already a bloody mess and Chancy had just started to push. Arthur made a gagging noise. "This is gonna be you in a few weeks." The witch pointed out. "You need to be able to stomach this." Arthur nodded his head.

"How long should this take?" He asked. The mother hummed.

"Depending on how big the baby is, no more than 5 hours." Chancy began to curse, Davie looking mildly amused at Chancy's poor decision. "But a birth like this solidifies the bond between the mother and child." She added, Davie frowning. The queen didn't fault Davie for his dislike of Chancy's mother in law, seeing that this is the first time he has met her, and she's birthing his child. However, there is a time and a place, and Davie shouldn't make the atmosphere uncomfortable. Arthur took a seat on the chair, listening to the pained screams of his best friend.

* * *

 **3 hours later...**

Arthur peered over Iridessa's head as tufts of dark hair peered out of Chancy's opening. "It's the head! Davie, get some warm water, Arthur, fetch the towels!" The mother ordered, the two flinching and scrambling for the materials. "Chancy keep pushing!" She ordered, the frenchman whimpering in pain. The last few hours were gruesome, so much so that Arthur took it upon himself to create a very potent balm for his friend. As Davie brought out the warm water, Iridessa moved out of the way. "Take it from here." She told Davie, the woman rushing to her son's side. "Why aren't you pushing?!" Arthur finally got a good look at Chancy. His skin was pale, his eyes were slit pupiled, bloodshot and hooded. His cat ears were showing, and they were flattened against his head. He was slipping into unconsciousness. The witch stroked his face, tapping against it softly, dragging his attention. "Only a few more minutes, okay?"

Chancy began to push again, screaming himself raw. He began to cry again, and his mother forced a bottle of water into his mouth. Arthur walked over to Davie in time to see Chancy tear, the child's head emerging completely. Arthur took a step back and counted to ten, understanding why Chancy was screaming especially loud now. "Chancy, keep pushing." Davie said softly, his mate writhing.

"It hurts so much~" he croaked, pushing once more. "Why did I agree to this? I think I'm gonna die!" Davie hushed him softly.

"No time to think about that, just push, you're almost there!" Arthur looked over Davie once more, the child's shoulders free. "A few more big ones Chancy and it'll be over." Chancy pushed again and again and again until he stopped.

"I can't do it!" He sobbed Davie hushing him again.

"The baby's at his legs. Two more sweetie, two more." He encouraged, Iridessa nodding her head. Chancy growled and pushed one last time, Davie gasping as he grabbed onto the baby and pulled his little feet out. "He's out!" Arthur dipped the towels in the water and handed it to davie, who wiped the blood and fluid off of it. Iridessa took a towel and wiped Chancy's tears and sweat.

* * *

 **4 hours later...**

Alfred was currently holding onto his new niece, making kissy faces at her. Chancy was sleeping soundly as Davie sewed him shut. He had to wait for the placenta to be released before he could do so. Iridessa had left some time ago, and Julius was sitting on the bed next to an unconscious Chancy, reading a book. Arthur was holding onto Geoffrey, but the brit was mesmerised over how beautiful the little baby was. She had dark hair and ice blue eyes. She was still very swollen, but Arthur could tell she was on the chubbier side. "So cute." Alfred whispered, the queen nodding in agreeance.

Davie walked around the room, placing things in order, replacing the sheets, which was difficult with a sleeping Chancy, and redressing his mate in clean nightwear. He plopped down next to Julius and sighed, exhausted. Julius leaned in closer to Davie in order to use him as a prop to lean on, the 2nd in command not minding in the least. Alfred stroked the child's hair. "Do you have a name for her yet?" Davie nodded.

"Her name's Anya." Alfred smiled at the tiny human.

"Hi Anya." He said in a squeaky voice. "I'm going to spoil you so much." Davie chuckled, Julius telling him to stay still.

"She's very pale." Arthur noted, Davie nodding.

"Probably takes after Chancy." Alfred nodded.

"How's he holding up?" Davie nodded.

"He's doing well. He just lost a lot of blood." He explained, Alfred nodding. "His mother convinced him to do it the hard way."

~~~Wounded Knight~~~

Chancy was currently breastfeeding Anya, staring off into space. Davie was resting his head on his mate's lap, drifting off to sleep. More friends had arrived, bearing gifts. However, the new parents seemed a little out of it. Once the child was full, Chancy passed her around to his friends. Even the queen mother was there. When she got hold of the child, she bombarded her with compliments. "She's going to be gorgeous." She walked with the child round the room tenderly, genuinely excited for the new parents. "It's going to be a hassle driving the boys away." Davie chuckled from his spot, Chancy running his hand through his hair.

Arthur made his way to Chancy, who smiled at him weakly. "Are you guys sure you don't want to be alone? You two look exhausted." The frenchman shook his head.

"We're fine." He sighed. "I'm just glad it's over." Arthur perched himself beside him and began to small talk with Chancy. He could hear soft snores from Davie, the alpha probably giving up and succumbing to slumber. "My mother was right." Chancy muttered. "Usually it takes 3 to 4 days for a mother feel the bond with their child, but I can feel it already." Chancy smiled as he looked at his daughter from across the room, who was once again in Alfred's arms. The king was showing her off to Marshal, Tommie and Clark, as if it were his child. "He's really taken to her." The ice blond chuckled, Arthur nodding.

"He's really excited for a baby." Arthur looked down at his huge stomach. "I don't know how you did it." Chancy shrugged.

"I don't know either." The two laughed, Julia walking over with Geoffrey, who was getting cranky. The frenchman grabbed the child and began to play with him. _"What's wrong?_ " He asked in French, the 1 year old mumbling incoherently. " _Don't feel jealous, baby. You have a little sister._ " Geoffrey began to giggle, breaking free from his mother and landing on his father's head. Davie groaned, but he didn't move, waiting for his mate to remove the child. However, Chancy left him there, forcing the alpha to live with the added weight.

* * *

 **3 days later...**

Arthur and Alfred sat silently in their rooms, reading through some baby name books. They had a few requirements, but they were both willing to compromise.

"If it's a boy, can his name be George?" Alfred asked, but the look on his face seemed reluctant.

"You want to name our child after your father?" Arthur asked back. "I thought you hated him."

"I do hate him. But that's my grandfather's name from my mother's side, and he was the best." He explained. Arthur looked down at the book in his hand.

"We can keep that in mind. There are still over a thousand names we can choose." Arthur handed Alfred his book, and the king nodded, smiling. He scrolled through the book.

"Alexander?" He asked.

"Nah. Too simple."

"Alan?" The two looked at each other before snickering.

"Henry?" Arthur suggested.

"No. I know a Henry, and I hate him." Alfred groaned. "Samuel?"

"I had a pig named Samuel." Arthur chuckled, the king sighing.

"Julius?"

"We already have a son named Julius." Arthur snapped, before realizing the king was actually talking to Julius, who had snuck into their room. "Hey sweetie." Arthur greeted the child. Julius was in his pink frilly nightwear, which was actually a nightgown. His blond hair was tied in a bun and his soft blue eyes was scanning his surroundings. "Julius?" The child approached the bed on Alfred's side, climbing in and settling himself in between them. "Julius?" Arthur asked again, the child remaining silent. Smudge, who was lying dormant underneath the bed, began to growl, crawl out of his preferred spot and standing protectively beside Arthur. The brit was all sorts of confused. "Julius?"

"What?" answered a deep voice, Arthur flopping around in shock. Julius sat up, glancing at his mother. "What?" He repeated himself, but his voice was back to normal. Alfred didn't look phased, instead he was still reading through names. The dog had stopped growling too, and returned underneath the bed. Had he just imagined that? Arthur placed a hand on the child's forehead.

"Are you feeling okay?" Julius smiled as he nodded, giving his mother a hug. Arthur tensed a bit, but he relaxed soon after. "Do you want to help us pick a name?" Julius shrugged, taking the book from Alfred's hands. The king huffed, but looked on with his son.

"What about Barry? Like a bear." Julius suggested, and Alfred shook his head. "Then what about Demetry?" Arthur shook his head. "Dominic?" Alfred shrugged. "Darius? Cyrus?" He began to sound more stressed. "Maria? Daphne?"

"We're looking for boy names, right now." Alfred informed, stroking Julius's hair, calming him down.

"Julius?" he suggested, Arthur pursing his lips.

"We already have a son named Julius." The child frowned.

"Adonis?" He groaned, Alfred biting his lips.

"I like that name.' The king admitted. Arthur shrugged.

"I kinda liked Cyrus more."

"Elijah?" Julius continued. "Micah? Peter?" Arthur stopped, eyes widening. Peter? He looked over to Alfred, who was still looking down at the book. He liked the name Peter, and would have been nice to remember his younger brother through his son. "Marcus? Anthony? Octavian? Gabriel? Issa? Idris?" Julius suggested more, the name Idris catching Alfred's attention. "Aaron, Aidan, Eden, Otis, Ethan, Judas, Atticus, Titus?"

"I like Adonis, Idris, Otis, Titus and Micah." The king admitted. Arthur shrugged.

"I like Cyrus, Peter, Eden and Atticus." He placed his hand on his stomach. "I guess it depends on what he looks like, or she looks like..." he suddenly had an Idea. "If it's a boy, you name him." He declared. "If it's a girl, I name her." Alfred shrugged.

"Only if we both have a say in it." He added, the brit nodding. "Out of the 5 names I said, which do you like the most?" The king asked, the queen yawning.

"I dunno." He admitted. "They're all good."

"Arthur..."

"We have a month to choose." The brit assured. "We have time to pick."

* * *

 **2 weeks later...**

Arthur was brushing his shaggy hair, swearing as his comb snapped. He had neglected his hair for a very long time, and now it was not complying with anything. Perhaps he should straighten it? He sucked his teeth. That would be a lot of work. He would cut it, but he actually wanted to grow his hair out a bit longer. He groaned, using his fingers to separate his hair. Alfred was taking a power nap on the couch, spending his rare break wisely with some rest. He was usually given an hour break once a week, which he would spend sleeping. Arthur was glad he was taking care of his health, not like before, when he would go days without sleep to keep up with work. The brit used to have to beg him to rest and take a rest. The omega smiled. At the fortress, he remembered. Where some of his finest memories were made, and some of the worst.

The brit shook his head, he didn't want to go down a trip on memory lane. It was over a year ago. It was now January 21st of the new year, and their child is to be expected soon. Alfred's eyes have gotten much better, and Julius has fixed his behavior in Bible study. Life was working itself out. Fulgur still sent him gifts,yet the two haven't met in person, which the brit found weird. Perhaps he'll visit when he isn't busy. The queen-mother had apologized to Arthur a couple of weeks ago, but the two were still not on very good terms, Arthur generally avoiding her advances at small talk. Sometimes he felt bad, but then he had remembered her letters and her overall treatment towards him, and he no longer felt guilty. Alfred would of course ask him to treat Martha better, but the omega would shrug him off.

"Sweetie, are you awake?" The brit called, the king humming. The brit suddenly felt his presence spike, the king was waking up. "You still have 15 minutes to relax." Arthur informed, the king stretching and sitting up, yawning.

"Then why did you wake me up?" He mumbled, standing up. Arthur shrugged, turning to face his husband. "Woah, your hair."

"Yeah, I know." He pouted. "Can you do it for me? One of those Frenchie Braids." Alfred shrugged. He walked over, running his through Arthur's hair.

"Jeez." He mumbled, Arthur sitting patiently. "You can try brushing it." Alfred criticized, Arthur holding up the broken comb. "Oh."

"I've been lazy." he admitted. "But, I want to at least look presentable in front of my child." Alfred began to finger detangle his hair. "I was thinking, that maybe I'll do a natural birth. Like Chancy." The king hesitated. "I know it's dangerous, but I want the bond as soon as possible." He explained. "Have you seen Chancy lately? He and Anya are inseparable, and he hardly leaves the room now. I visited them yesterday, and I've never seen Chancy and Davie so happy."

"But," Alfred started. "We can still be that happy if you go under the knife. You don't need to go through unnecessary pain to get the bond." He reasoned. Arthur hummed.

"I think it'll make him, or her, more precious." Arthur argued back. The King sighed.

"It's up to you, really." He muttered, patting the brit on the back. Arthur looked in the mirror to see a smooth french braid. He smiled, blowing Alfred a kiss through the mirror. "Have you thought about any girl names?" The queen shook his head. "Well, get on that."

Smudge began to bark suddenly, the pair turning around. The white dog was approaching the front door as it opened, little Julius walking in. Arthur whistled at Smudge to stop. Julius patted the dog, who licked his hand, confusing the brit. "Hey sweetie." The queen gave him a kiss on the cheek when he got close enough. "How was class?" Julius smiled as he told them about his day, explaining how he was the only one who had read ahead, and that the clergymen praised him. Arthur was extremely proud of him, the toddler coming a long way. Alfred patted his head.

"You have a lunch date with grandma, so get ready." He reminded the child, Julius nodding. Arthur didn't know how he felt at Martha being in Julius's life. She's just as much his grandmother as Arthur being his mother, so he couldn't speak out against it. The king was adamant about it anyway, the queen would have been ignored. Martha has been treating Julius rather well, and Julius genuinely enjoys lunch times with his grandmother. The toddler left the room to go get ready, the king checking the grandfather clock. "My break is over." He bent down and kissed Arthur on the lips. "Be back by dinner."

"Bye"

* * *

 **1 week later...**

"Owww~" Arthur was in incredible pain, sweat plastered his hair to his face. "Alfie~~" he groaned, the king placing a cool towel on his head.

"I know it hurts, but these are just contractions." Alfred rubbed the brit's swollen hips. "They'll go away." Arthur huffed, the king leaving butterfly kisses on his stomach. Arthur smiled at the gesture, running his hands in his husband's hair. Alfred continued to kiss his stomach as Arthur tried to ignore the pulsing pain.

"The baby's going to come anytime soon, you know." Arthur sighed. "I can't wait to meet them." Arthur's stomach was quite large, a little larger than Chancy's while he was pregnant. "They're going to be big and strong. Just like their father." Alfred hummed.

"I'm gonna get the bath ready." He declared standing up. "I'll be back to take you there." He scurried to the bathroom, Arthur pouting being left alone. He felt hot all over, yet it was freezing in the dead of winter. He crossed his legs, suddenly feeling moist.

He sat up, annoyed. Undressing himself, he struggled to shake off the heat that was enveloping him. He was now completely naked sitting on the bed, yet he still felt sticky and sweaty. He stood up, taking a few steps before he felt something trickle down his thigh. He glanced down, but he wasn't able to see past his belly. "Alfred?" He called. He wasn't pissing himself, so the only explanation must be...

"Yes?" The king called back. He emerged topless, smiling suddenly at Arthur's naked figure. The brit scowled.

"I'm leaking." He said bluntly, the king frowning.

"Excuse me?"

"I think my water broke." Alfred's eyes widened impossibly, taking a few steps back in fear, before rushing over to him.

"Holy shit, are you sure?" He whispered, throwing a maternity dress over Arthur's head. The brt shrugged. The alpha groaned. 'I'll call the nurses, and Davie, just sit here." He lead Arthur to the bed and laid him down. "I'll be right back." He rushed out of the room, the brit enjoying the panic in his husband's eyes. After a few minutes of silence, Arthur slowly began to feel more fluids escape his anus. Geez. He water really did break. He was going into labor.

"Holy Shit."


	45. Chapter 45

"PUSH!"

"I fucking AM!"

"OWW~" Alfred hissed, jerking his hand away from Arthur in pain. They were currently 5 hours into labor, and the baby wasn't even in sight yet. Davie was delivering his child the natural way, the midwives surrounding Arthur keeping him hydrated. The birth was taking place in Davie's private office, the same place Chancy was giving birth. However, with all of these people around, it felt far more cluttered, and stressful. Arthur stopped pushing, beginning to regret his decision to give birth like this. "Arthur, please keep pushing." Alfred begged, the brit growling.

"But it hurts~~" He whimpered, Alfred stroking his cheek.

"I know sweetie, but we need to get out child out of there." The queen nodded, throwing his head back as he pushed. After what seemed like forever, Davie announced that the head was peeking through. "You're doing great honey." Alfred held his hand once more, Arthur sobbing out in pain.

"AUGGHHH!" Arthur pushed again, a little more of the child's head being exposed. After an additional 30 minutes, the baby's upper body was exposed, only the legs left. The brit could feel himself giving up, but the king tapped his face.

"Just another two pushes." Davie said, the nurses rushing to get the water ready. Arthur swore as he pushed one last time, the child finally being freed. "It's a boy." Davie said quickly. "But I think another one's coming."

"What?!" the new parents yelled, the 2nd in command shrugging.

"I see the head. Push, you aren't done yet." Arthur groaned, just his luck to have more than one child. He began to push, feeling himself slipping into unconsciousness.

"I can't do it..." He groaned, Alfred shaking him slightly.

"Yes you can. Just push!"

"I'm Fucking pushing!" The brit snapped.

~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~

Arthur gazed down at the tan features of his two children, smiling lazily at the warm presence at the back of his head. They're his. The boy on his right is the oldest, the little girl on his left is 20 minutes younger. The children were now a few hours old, the queen being moved out of Davie's office into the nursery. Chancy sat beside Arthur with his baby girl Anya, the two whispering to each other in French.

" _Do you have a name for them?"_ Chancy asked, the Brit nodding.

" _Alfred named him Micah._ " The infant had light hair and blue eyes. He was currently wrapped in a light grey blanket to keep him warm. He was quite calm, and the moment Alfred held him in his hand, he blurted out the name 'Micah.' " _I named the girl Desdemona, after some Shakespeare character. She's the sweetest and most tender woman of all his plays._ " Des had light hair as well, and Arthur couldn't tell what eye color she had, seeing that she was taking so many naps. Alfred was currently out informing his advisors that the babies were born, healthy. He should be back any minute.

Julius sat at the foot of the bed, reading a book, like always. Arthur nudged him with him foot. "Yes?" He asked, the brit sighing.

"You haven't even looked at your siblings." Julius set down his book, and crawled over to his mother. His face hovered over his younger sister's face first, and then over his brother's.

"His name's Mickey?" He sounded confused.

"No, it's Micah." Julius nodding, gently stroking their hair. "What do you think?"

"They're cute." He said flatly. "But they seem weak." He mumbled. The Frenchman chuckled.

"Because they're babies." He explained. Julius nodded.

"I know, but you can't do anything with them." He complained, the two omegas laughing wildly. There was a knock on the door, Julius standing up and getting it, revealing a swarm of nobles and advisors. Julia screeched, the girls rushing over to the babies. Micah was obviously startled by the way he was so easily given to his aunts, his eyes widening as Julia held him. The sleeping girl was handed off to Isabelle, who was bouncing up and down in excitement.

"They're sooo cutee~!" Mary squealed, again earning her a hard look from Micah. They all passed around the children, Marshal finally getting hold of the boy, smothering him with kisses. Alfred was preoccupied with Desdemona, kissing her senseless to get her to react. None of the children were very expressive, but they were just born, and probably have no idea what's going on. The king however, was glowing, as if holding his daughter was all he needed in life. Eventually Davie took Des from Alfred, wanting some time with his niece. Alfred then confiscated Micah from Marshal, only to have him taken by Tommie. Arthur watched everything happen with a soft smile, the door opening slowly to reveal Arnold and the queen, bearing large boxes of gifts and supplies. Arnold put down the stuff and rushed over to Arthur, kissing him on the forehead. Martha gave Alfred a kiss before taking Des from Davie, gasping.

"She's magnificent!" Arthur chuckled. Arnold took Micah from Tommie, raising the child up to the ceiling.

"So is he!" He brought the baby to his chest. "What is his name?"

"Micah."

"And hers?"

"Desdemona."

"Exquisite." Martha walked around in a circle. "She'll make the perfect princess."

* * *

 **3 weeks later...**

Arthur shook Alfred awake, who groaned desperately. "It's your turn, Alfie!" Arthur snapped, the king cursing.

"But there's two of them!" He snapped back, crawling out of bed. Arthur cursed too, crawling out as well. The cradles were moved to their room because they figured it would be easier to take care of them from here. The babies woke up every few hours or so, and they have been since they were born. Arthur loved them dearly, but god did he wish they would shut up. He picked up and rocked Micah, Alfred grabbing Des. After a few minutes of rocking, Arthur changed their diapers and put them back to sleep. Simple, right?

Alfred passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow, Arthur gazed off into the direction of the cradle. He loved them so much it hurt. Desdemona's green eyes would always sparkle as she smiled, which was often. Micah seemed to only have one expression, mild annoyment, like Julius. He could already tell that the two were going to get along quite well. Arthur could firmly state that he didn't have a favorite, but for the last few days, it hurt the queen to realize that his king might already have one. Despite his initial astonishment with Desdemona, who Alfred now calls Dezzy, he has been shifting almost all of his attention to Micah, which isn't really a lot, seeing that he works most hours. But it still bothers the brit that Alfred couldn't even wait until the babies were kids before embarking on his quest to hone a king.

The brit groaned, it was the wrong place and time to think about this, it was the middle of the night and he would be needing this precious sleep. He and Chancy would be having a play date, where the babies could drool on each other, and the adults could gossip. Julius would have Bible study, and their mates would be busy working, so it would just be the two of them. The new mothers had a lot to catch up on, they haven't really seen each other in a while. Arthur turned from the cradle and shut his eyes, pushing himself flush against his husband. Alfred unconsciously wrapped a protective arm over him, the brit using that as an anchor for his relaxation, scenting him. The king shifted a little bit, but not far enough for the brit not to bury his nose in the other's glands.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

Arthur dressed Micah up as Alfred gave Des a bath. It was a little chilly outside, the end of February not being the best time for a picnic outdoors. They were going to Chancy's room, where they could both relax, watch the babies, and generally have a good time. Arthur had just received a letter from King Francis and Queen Matthew congratulating the both of them on the births, and had informed the brit that they were also expecting a child. The brit was planning on sharing the news with Chancy today. Arthur dressed his son up in a warm purple onesie, it was sent as a gift from Fulgur, who the brit has yet to meet in person. He too has sent him a letter congratulating him on the birth of his children. He set aside a matching red onesie for Des, once Alfred was finished with her.

Arthur began to dress himself up, wearing casual pants and one of Alfred's blouses. The king came out, rubbing a towel through Des's hair, walking over to the bed. He put a diaper on her and dressed her up in the onesie, before walking over to Arthur's dresser. He returned to his daughter with a jar of gel, which he opened and took a little scoop of the waxy substance, smoothing her fine hair back. He did the same to Micah, who shot Alfred a look of disapproval. "Sorry, Mickey." Alfred chuckled, scooping the baby up. Micah has been nicknamed Mickey by Julius, Alfred going with the flow. Arthur didn't call the kids by nicknames, he actually wanted them to know their real names as they grew up. Arthur knew that Thomas thought his name was Tommie until his was 13. The brit shook his head to himself, names were a powerful thing, and his kids were going to know theirs.

Arthur scooped Desdemona up, along with their diaper bag. The young parents left their room and made their way to Davie's. When they got there, Alfred knocked, the door slowly pushing open. Arthur frowned, was everything okay? Alfred could sense his worry, so he passed Micah to the brit before entering the room. The brit backed away from the door, flinching when he heard something clatter. "Arthur, come in, it's okay." It was Alfred. The brit sighed in relief, walking into the room. The first thing he noticed was Chancy, who was breastfeeding Anya. Geoffrey was sitting beside him, gnawing on his father's shoulder. Davie, however, wasn't moving, not even one bit. Arthur could tell Alfred looked scared, but Chancy's face was one again emotionless,

"Is he okay?" Arthur asked, the Frenchman nodding.

"He got hurt last night, he wouldn't tell me how. I just put him in a healing coma, he'll be up any minute now." He sounded a bit robotic, a bit angry. Arthur made his way to Chancy, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, it's just that he's..." He sighed. "I don't know. This keeps on happening, and I don't know why." His voice cracked, the blonde instinctively clearing it and shaking the emotions off. Arthur took a seat beside him as Alfred paced the room. Chancy eyed him briefly. "Do you know what happened to him?" He asked the king, Alfred shrugging.

"I have a few guesses, but they're all unlikely. We should just wait to ask him." He responded calmly. The trio waited for what felt like hours, but in reality, it was only half an hour before the 2nd in command groaned, waking up slowly. He released a big yawn, gently patting Geoffrey's head as a way to stop his chewing. Geoffrey giggled, the 2nd in command slowly sitting up, rubbing at his eyes. He opened his indigo eyes slowly, eyes widening when he noticed Alfred and Arthur in the room.

"Oh... hey?" He looked confused, pulling the blanket up to cover his shirtless body. It was only then did Arthur notice the bruises on his chest. The king groaned.

"Don't tell me-"

"It wasn't your fault." Davie blurted, the king narrowing his eyes at him.

"I told you not to follow me. Did you listen?" Alfred sounded annoyed, rather than angry, which made the 2nd in command a little more compelled to answer truthfully.

"I wasn't following you, but I did go in your general direction." Alfred opened his mouth, but the brunette stopped him. "You were heading towards the castle, was I supposed to sleep outside?" The two stared each other down as the two omegas looked on in confusion.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked softly, the king pursing his lips.

"Yea Davie, what's going on?" The brunette shot the king a look of annoyance.

"I was walking through the woods, when Alfred transformed and attacked me." He deadpanned, the king shaking his head.

"That's not how I remember it." He started. "I told you I could feel the shift coming on, and that I had to get away. You decided-

"You fell to your knees and started puking. I thought you were sick, so I wanted to take you back to my infirmary!." The 2nd command snapped, the king shaking his head wildly.

"I told you then that it was normal, and that I'd be fine. You decided that it wasn't." The king scolded.

"I've seen you transform before, you've never... reacted like that! And I did let you go off alone, you just decided to lurk by the entrance of the building. I was on my way home when you just jumped from a tree-"

"A tree?"

"I dunno, from above?! You landed on my back!" He was exasperated. "And this keeps happening, are you trying to eat me or something?"

"Excuse me?" Alfred sounded amused, but Davie nodded his head.

"This isn't the first time you've pounced on me out of nowhere. It's like your doggy form can't stand me." He looked disgruntled, and Arthur genuinely had no idea how to act. Of course he was upset with Alfred for changing outside of the hidden room, but he was also mad at Davie for putting himself in that situation.

"Chancy just gave birth." The brit started. "And instead of being by his side, you decide to hang out with your friend who could transform into a dangerous beast at a moment's notice, at night?" Arthur's question was hostile in nature, Davie smiling uncomfortably at the criticism.

"The accident happened around midnight. I was at home prior for a couple of hours, I had only left for about thirty minutes." He answered, the Frenchman nodding in corroboration. "And as for why I was with Alfred, we ran into each other, and we decided to walk together. Neither of us knew he was going to transform. If I did, I would have stayed home with my mate, who, as you expertly noted, just gave birth." He sounded a little condescending, but Arthur knew he just felt cornered.

"How often has this been happening?" Arthur asked Chancy, the Frenchman shrugging.

"Twice a month. Maybe three times. For the last 4 months." He spoke flatly, turning to his mate. His lips began to tremble as his eyes watered. "Y-you told me you were just going to get some water." His stoney resolve crumbled as Anya began to cry. "You can't keep doing this." Arthur glared at his husband.

"You've been attacking him for 4 months?" he asked, the king shrugging.

"Apparently. I don't remember, but if he does, then yeah, I guess I have." He didn't sound remorseful, probably because Davie hasn't been seriously harmed yet. However, the queen needed to bring the alphas back to reality before this got out of hand. He began to pace around the room.

"To think you could kill him and not remember." Arthur started, the others staring at him unblinkingly. "Yeah, he hasn't been seriously hurt, yet, but you certainly have the capacity to kill him. I've seen you hunt in your true form, you could have easily killed him. I mean, with the way this is going, you actually might, hell, you'll probably do it the next time you transform. You'll end up clawing at the wrong artery, and watch as he bleeds out. Of course you won't know that you did it, so you'll always have that excuse to leave you unaccountable-" he stopped when Chancy cleared his throat. The Frenchman looked pained, his cheeks wet with tears, lips trembling as he struggled to silence his crying baby. Alfred stared at his husband in shock, Davie glaring at him weakly. No one spoke, everyone secretly knowing it was true.

As Anya kept crying, Chancy began to cry along with her. It wasn't those sobbing noises they were so used to coming out of Chancy, the one he'd make out of general sadness. No, this cry was strangled, heavy, yet light. It was so quiet that it was hardly audible. Arthur looked at his friend's face and saw no ounce of delicacy, in fact, he looked pissed. His eyebrows were knitted together, and his eyes bore holes into nothing in particular. His jaw was clenched, and the entirety of his face, and even his neck, was red. Yet, without a doubt he was crying. He quickly brought a hand to hide his face in shame, which, the brit could say for certain, he has never done before. Davie reached a hand out to touch his face, but Chancy just handed little Anya to him instead, leaping from the bed and rushing out of the room. Davie stood up to go after him, but Arthur talked him out of it.

"Chancy really needs his space." He reasoned, Davie holding back a snarl.

"You know, you have the tendency to make things worse." He sighed, walking over to the bathroom. Arthur shrugged.

"You should've known better than to be around Alfred at night. You need to wake up, you have more than just yourself to live for." The queen criticized, the 2nd in command laughing hysterically from the bathroom.

"Oh really? I didn't know that." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I had no idea I had two children. I had no idea I had a fiance...a fiance that loves me and worries about me. I had no idea that I had a family, to look after, and who loves me. I hadn't the slightest clue." The brit rolled his eyes, a piece of his heart stinging. He didn't mean what he said like that, he knew Davie wasn't an idiot.

"Just don't be so reckless." he said softly. "Both of you." He turned his attention to Alfred. "You can't honestly look me in the eye and tell me you didn't know what you've been doing to Davie." He snapped, the king shrugging.

"I was only informed about doing it once, and that was 3 weeks ago. I had no idea it's been happening for months." Arthur could tell he was telling the truth, but that perhaps made him angrier.

"Why don't you stay in the secret room?" He asked, the king shrugging.

"I don't like the smell." He sighed. the brit scoffing.

"You prefer the smell of torn flesh." Alfred looked at his husband, then down to the baby in the brit's arms, then down to the baby in his own.

"I'm sorry, I'll stay in the secret room, next time." He said robotically, the queen quirking a brow, no argument.

"G-good." he waited on the bed, stroking Geoffrey's hair. The child had fallen back to sleep in the midst of all the commotion. The child's impish nose twitched as he sneezed, waking the baby up. Just then, Chancy slowly walked into the room, no longer red, and no longer crying. He sat back down into his prior position, arms folded, glaring at the doors of the bathroom. After a few minutes of silence, Davie walked out in a white bathrobe, carrying Anya, who sported a green towel around herself. The two made eye contact, Davie opting to break it and dress his child up first. He dried her as best he could, and gave her some fuzzy socks, finishing it off with an orange onesie.

" _I don't know what game you're playing._ " Chancy snapped in French, Davie returning his gaze to him. " _But the next time you make me feel like a fool, I'm leaving you without hesitation._ " Davie opened his mouth to speak, but Chancy cut him off. " _And I'll take the kids, and you'll never see any of us again._ " The 2nd in command sighed, taking a seat next to his mate, cradling their child.

"I didn't-"

" _Yes, you did, and I'm sick of it. Since you don't care about your own life, since you want to throw it away by hanging out with monsters, then I won't care the next time you do it. No excuses_ ,-

"Can you-"

" _No more excuses._ " He clenched his fist into a ball. "I left the room because I had to stop myself from kicking your ass." he snapped in english, the king finally understanding something. "There is nothing you can say to change my mind. I mean it, so don't even argue with me." He glared at his alpha in challenge, who, while holding onto their child, had to make a decision: Argue or Accept. The 2nd in command slowly released a deep growl, the brit feeling his own heart seize up. Chancy began to shake in rage, covering his face once again.

"I was going to apologize, but if you really want to go, go." He started, the king standing up, ready to leave. "But I don't care who you are, how dare you threaten to take my kids away?" He growled in French, Chancy scoffing. "You are the most annoying person I know." The American spat in disgust, Chancy rolling his eyes.

"You're the most selfish person I've ever met." He shot back. "It's a wonder why I'd even mated you." He said loudly, and in English. Alfred grabbed Davie on the shoulder and tried to pull him away, but it was too late.

"You know what?" Davie started, Chancy raising his brows. Alfred yelled, trying to get them to stop. "After a year with you, I've been wondering the same thing." Arthur seized up again. Oh god, what was happening? Chancy huffed, sliding off the bed.

"I'll start making preparations then." He willed all of the drawers to blast open at once, all of his clothes suspending in the air. Davie looked unimpressed.

"Preparations for what? For you to live with your mother?" He mocked, the frenchman laughing.

"For France. To get my old job back. To do anything else but be your stupid fucking fiancee." He spat, Davie laughing hysterically.

"Well, make sure to kiss the kids before you leave." Chancy and Arthur stiffened, their omega instinct kicking in. The alpha's tone was threatening, so much so that Alfred himself was beginning to growl, hardly recognizing Davie as not an immediate threat. The clothes fell to the floor, and the draws slammed closed as Chancy shook wildly. It was clear Chancy couldn't leave with his children. Davie took a step closer to him, laughing softly. "Aww, what happened? You ran out of juice?"

"Would you just shut up?" He covered his face again, Davie shaking his head, slowly glancing at the other couple.

"Get out, now."

* * *

 **1 day later...**

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the couple, a little confused. The way they were going at it, it sounded like they were going to break up, but here they were now, laughing and genuinely enjoying each other's company. Alfred stared on with him.

"I know, right." he was currently holding onto Des, stroking her face. The other couple was sitting in the library, and the royals were watching them from their private balcony. It appeared to be a family outing; Davie was devoting almost all of his attention to Chancy, who was basking in it. The Frenchman, if anything, was addicted to attention. It wasn't a bad thing in the least, but he was finally seeing where Alfred was coming from. The blond was a little manipulative. How he managed to calm his mate down, Arthur had no idea, but it appears the American was in a much better mood.

"Chancy isn't a bad person." Arthur said, more to himself, than to Alfred.

"I never said he was. He's just problematic." The king mumbled, beforing gently pinching Desdemona's face. "Right Dezzy? Uncle Chancy is problematic." He said in a squeaky voice, the brit chuckling.

"He's sensitive." Arthur retorted.

"He's a brat."

"I mean, imagine yourself in his shoes-" The queen started, the king humming.

"Okay. I'm married to a good man who does everything he should and even more. A man who deals with my antics without so much as breaking a sweat." Arthur shrugged.

"And imagine that man, the love of your life, the father of your newborn child, stumbling into your room torn up. Imagine that happening more than once. I would have already killed you myself." The king shrugged.

"I mean, I guess." he admitted. "But Chancy could find better ways to express himself. I mean, I did." Arthur smiled, nodding. The king has come such a long way, the two hardly ever arguing. The brit genuinely had nothing bad to say about his mate, he has been absolutely splendid, and he was having a great time in the palace with his friends. He glanced down at the happy couple in front of them.

"They're obviously happy together." He noted, the king nodded.

"Davie loves him a lot." Alfred added. "Which is why it annoys me when they fight. You'd think their communication skills would better considering their jobs." Arthur chuckled at that. Davie was 2nd in command of the imperial army, and Chancy was the French ambassador. "But I guess their points get across eventually, otherwise they would have broken up by now." He glanced back down at them. "Anya's cute" he said randomly. "She'll be a real heartbreaker." He was frowning, probably wondering how many times he'll have to fight off unworthy men.

"Des is just as cute." Arthur shot, Alfred smiling.

"Oh yeah, Dezzy is way cuter." He brought Des up to his face. "You are so cute." He said in a squeaky voice. "Please don't make me age faster than necessary." Alfred returned his attention to people watching, quirking a brow when he saw his mother, with Micah in her arms, approaching the young couple. He instantly seized up. "I thought he was spending time with Arnold?" Alfred passed Des to his husband, springing to his feet and going inside. Arthur stood up slowly before moving to follow him. Arthur didn't know why Alfred was suddenly so excited, the queen-mother has taken Micah for a day in the past.

When they got to the courtyard, the king approached the group he was just spying on. "Hello." His mother mumbled absentmindedly. Alfred bowed curtly.

"Weren't you taking Julius to go ice fishing?" His tone was a little hostile, the queen-mother shrugging.

"Yes, but I figured my time would be better spent with my grandson." She sighed, stroking Micah's face. Arthur frowned.

"Where's Julius?" he asked, the queen-mother shrugging.

"I left him with the guards at the front gate."

"WHAT?!" Arthur and Alfred yelled in unison, Chancy glancing at them in mild concern.

"What's wrong?" The Frenchman asked. The queen-mother shrugged.

"You left my son at the front gates? How dare you?" Arthur spat, turning swiftly and rushing inside. He ran rushed to main hall of the palace, ignoring the waves of his staff. He approached the first crowd of guards he found, demanding to know where his son was. They bowed to him before answering, annoying the queen tremendously. "Where's Julius? HAve you seen him?" He asked, one of them nodding.

"Yes, he's in the prayer room." Arthur sighed in relief, thanking them for everything. He walked slowly to the prayer room, which was located at the back of the palace. He slipped in to see Julius kneeling in front of the large cross bolted to the wall. He was reciting some psalms before he noticed his mother's presence.

"Grandma left me for Micah." He deadpanned, Arthur feeling his heart pang. The toddler didn't seem phased by it one bit, not even bothered in the least. But surely that can't be the case. Julius had planned this day himself, wanting to spend quality time with Martha, whom he adored with much of his heart. He had requested it be on his favorite hill, and even arranged the guards and the mode of transportation, Unicorns (They were really just horses Julius tied carrots to). He had spent so much time and detail to planning this trip, only to get left behind.

Before he knew it, he was already kneeling beside his son, kissing his forehead. "I'm sorry. If you want, we can go ice fishing tomorrow." He offered softly, the five year old shrugging.

"I don't wanna Ice fish." He replied. "Maybe just teatime?" He looked up at his mom with tired eyes, an expression Arthur hardly saw on grown men twice his own age. He kissed his son on the cheeks, nodding wildly.

"Of course sweetie."


	46. Chapter 46

**One year later...**

 **February**

Arthur quietly sipped on his tea as he listened to the trial, rubbing his forearms, uncomfortable. Every month Alfred has this thing where the people can come to the palace and bring criminal cases against other people. At first Arthur would opt out of attending, and he had an excuse, either he was pregnant or his children were just born. Now he had absolutely no reason, Julius being six, and his twins being one years old, old enough to be left with a friend for a few hours. This would be his 4th month attending. He was uncomfortable because of the charges, 'disobeying your alpha.' Arthur had to double take before coming to the foul truth that this was a valid crime, and that this alpha had the right to take her omega to court. The southern couple settled down on opposite sides of the throne room, fixing themselves up. The man wore shabby culottes and a dingy blouse, whereas the woman wore a simple blue dress that shaped her thin body. Behind them were rows of spectators. He shuddered as he watched on from his throne, Alfred staring down at the couple unphased.

"Yo' highness, you must understand... she makes the most unreasonable requests." The omega whimpered. The omega was a man named Duke, and he wasn't built like Arthur or Chancy, he could have easily been mistaken for a beta, and if you really squinted, an alpha. His wife Ashley, the alpha, cannot stand his attitude, or his 'disobedience', Arthur has yet to hear an example of this. "Cause she wanted to hang out with her friends, she demanded that gone I leave with the kids. Of course I listened, took 'em to a whole bunch of places, but when I came back, the locks were changed. It was the middle of winter, and she done changed the locks on us. We had to spend the night in our barn or else we'd freeze. The doors were locked for 4 dang days, your highness, and only on the fifth day did she open it. When myself and my kids walked into the house, there were naked men and women everywhere. She left us out in the cold so she could have an orgy."

Arthur felt his heart weep for the man, who has obviously been through some emotional strife, despite being Arthur's age. His black hair was braided back in a ponytail, and his deep brown eyes were worn. His tanned skin had bruises and welts on it, and Arthur wondered where it came from. "Is she abusive?" Arthur asked simply, the omega glancing at his alpha, before looking up at the queen.

"I don't know." He said simply. "Sometimes there's a hit or a slap, but usually her brothers attack me." He bit his lips. "But more importantly, she's neglectful of our kids. We have two girls and one boy, all omegas, all three years old. The moment she realized their status, she began drinking, and wouldn't cook or clean. I'm practically raising them alone, which is almost impossible as a farmer. Not to mention I take care of the business in the stables. She used to be a big help, a good wife, but then her vices started showing and she changed." Arthur tilted his head, offering a sympathetic look. Alfred scratched his head before turning his attention to the alpha.

"Is that what happened?" The alpha woman, Ashley, pursed her lips before shaking her head.

"Ya' see, your highness... I take medication, for my achy pains, which is why I don't help around the house as much as before. Also, as for neglecting my kids, that totally false, I love my kids, and I do my dang best to take care of them. Sometimes I do the wrong things like the lock changing incident, I admit that, but he's been asking for it for a while." She proclaimed. Her brown messy hair was tied into a neat bun, her grey eyes cold and remorseless. Arthur felt disgust rise in his throat as his husband spoke.

"How so?" Alfred asked.

"Once, when I came home from grocery shopping, he and the kids wasn't home. I made dinner, which was hard because of my joint pains, and they had only come back around midnight. He had spent the day with the neighbor's family, and had dinner there. I told him to never go back to that house, but a week later, he did the same thing, he disobeyed my orders. That's not the only example, I told him clean the house before I came back from my mama's house over a weekend, and when I came back, the home was a wreck. Broken furniture and dishes, Duke sleeping, drunk, on the floor." Alfred blinked at her a few times before sighing.

"Duke," Alfred started. "What had happened that weekend?" The omega stiffened before frowning, Ashley piping up.

"You'd better not tell them that ridiculous lie you told me!" Alfred told her to be quiet, and repeated his question to Duke.

"It's a little far fetched, but it's the truth." He spoke softly, rubbing his arm nervously. "I woke up one night to the sound of scratching, so I went down stairs to check, ya' know, cuz sometimes raccoons do get in the kitchen. When I got there, the biggest wolf I had ever seen in the entirety of ma' god dang life was scratching around my living room. I had no idea what to do, now I have a firearm, but then I didn't, so I just sat there in shock. When it noticed me, it gave me a big ol bite on the leg. When I woke up, it was gone, and Ashley was yelling at my kids, telling them to clean the place." Spectators began to laugh, the omega male blushing. Alfred and Arthur looked at each other, it could have been a lycan attack, or the man really could have been drunk.

"Do you still have a scar?" Alfred asked, the omega nodded. "Let us see." Duke swallowed harshly, glancing around the room. Arthur shook his head.

"If it'll make you more comfortable to show us later, you can." Duke sighed in relief, nodding wildly.

"Thank you your highness." He said graciously, Arthur smiling at him warmly. The brit felt protective over this omega, despite this not being the first omega he's pitied in a case.

Alfred gave Arthur a sharp look before turning his attention to Ashley. "Now Ashley, what do you want out of today's case?" He asked, the alpha smiling.

"I want you to annul our mateship, I want him out of ma' house, and I need him to take the kids." She said triumphantly. The king turned to Duke, who had a bitter expression on his face.

"We both payed for that house, and if I'm taking the kids, why should you take the house?" He shot at his wife.

"It's on my father's property."

"Well, my name's on the deed." Alfred and Arthur sighed. They had hoped there wouldn't be a property dispute in this case. Arthur shook his head.

"Are any of you willing to leave the house?" He asked, annoyed. The ex couple glared at each other until Duke sighed.

"If I can find a safer place for ma kids, then sure. And if I collect my profit for the crops I tilled." He looked down at the table, Ashley clearing her throat.

"He's going to leave my house _after_ his punishment, right?" Arthur quirked a brow at her. "Technically, he did disobey me. I mean, sure I cheated, but that's not illegal, disobeying your alpha is." Arthur glared at her before glancing at the king, who seemed to nod slowly.

"We'll only provide half of the estimated profit the crops make, as punishment." He declared lazily, the alpha woman scoffing.

"With all due respect, Duke is an awful omega. I think a must just punishment is branding." Arthur chuckled, pulling up his sleeve to reveal his forearm.

"Like this?" His cross burn was still very visible and pink, though it never hurt. The room went silent, the alpha looking down. "Do you realize how degrading that is, to brand another human being. Royal or not, we do not have the moral authority to scar another human being for life. And perhaps infidelity is legal, but domestic violence and child neglect isn't, Ashley." Alfred nodded in agreeance.

"For your crimes against your family, we are fining you a total of $2000 dollars, which you have until the end of this year to pay before interest rates are added." He declared. Ashley's mouth went slack, the omega inside Arthur cheering.

* * *

 **2 days later...**

 **Alfred's POV**

He bit his lip as Arthur spoke to Duke, whom he had invited to live in the palace without asking the king. Duke was going to work as one of the many gardeners in return for a room and food. Chancy spending quality time with Geoffrey, Julius, and Duke's three children, Daisy, Marigold, and Byron. The five of them played around, well, Julius sat next to Chancy as the other 4 played around. They were all currently in the queen-mother's garden, Duke pulling out weeds, while Alfred and Davie watched him, confused. He really didn't look like an omega, but there were a lot of omegas who didn't look like omegas.

The day he had moved into the palace was the day Alfred fact checked his story. There was a huge bite on his thigh, of a creature who's jaw was 4 times the size of a wolf's. It was most likely a lycan. Duke was pleasant enough to be around, and he kept to himself. His southern accent was refreshing though, Alfred like it a lot. But to have all of his kids come out to be omegas, damn he was... he stopped himself. He wouldn't be unlucky, it's not like being an omega is a bad thing, perhaps... Alfred didn't know. Davie walked over to Duke, perhaps to ask him his opinions on a type of plant, Alfred just continued to talk to himself.

"Alfie? You okay?" His husband asked, the king kissing him on the forehead briefly.

"Yes, of course." Arthur smirked at him. "You aren't mad at me, are you?" Alfred hummed in amusement.

"For letting him into our happy home? Of course not." He sounded sarcastic, but he meant it. Duke was a cool dude, really he was. His kids kinda reminded him of how Julius started out, a little reserved. Byron, however, was far more outgoing than any other child there. He continuously tugged on Julius's arm to get him to play, the five year old only occasionally glancing at him.

"Don't you have better things to do?" Julius snapped, Byron giggling, not understanding the meaning of that phrase. The child had sandy brown hair and warm brown eyes, which contrasted greatly with Julius's blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Let's play hide and seek."

"I won't find you." Julius deadpanned.

"Then you hide." Alfred chuckled, Julius humming.

"But I'm tired, I can't play." Julius lied, the child believing him.

"Okay..." He took a seat beside Julius. "I'll wait." Now Alfred was cracking up, Julius glaring at him.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

 **3 months later...**

 **May**

 **Arthur's POV**

"Alfred! Alfred!" Arthur yelled, running down the halls with his twins in his arms. "Alfred!" Before he got to his husband's office, guards were already upon him, asking him what was wrong. "Come with me!" As a group they traveled to the king's office, getting their only to see him reading a book on the ground, Julius and Byron sitting in his comfy chair, drawing on some loose papers. "Alfred!" Arthur grabbed the king's attention who looked up at him in mild annoyance. Once he noticed the guards, he stood up concerned, however, from the wide grin on the queen's face, the king knew it couldn't have been a bad thing. He passed Micah to Alfred, and he continued to hold onto Des. He pointed at Alfred. "Who is he?" He asked in a squeaky voice.

"Daddy." Desdemona said slowly, the king breaking into a wide grin. Micah had started talking at nine months, his first word also being daddy. Des has yet to have said anything coherent, up until now. The parents squealed, the guards laughing and clapping in relief that everything was okay. Des and Micah started laughing too. "Daddy." Desdemona said again. "Daddy, daddy, daddy." Arthur looked up at Alfred to see that his eyes were watering. Arthur swapped babies with him, excusing himself with Micah and the guards, obvious that Alfred needed some father daughter time. He thanked and apologized to the guards, who laughed it off, saluting him.

~~~Wounded Knight~~~

 **Alfred's POV**

 **December**

 **6 months later...**

It was christmas!

They were all gathered in the king's private dining room. Chancy had brought the eggnog, Duke and Alfred had decorated the tree, Tommie had brought the fruitcake, Marshal had filled up the stockings, Davie was feeding the flames in the fireplace, Arthur was trying to subdue the children, while Duke tied Byron's shoe. There was a big cake in the center because it was also Byron's, Marigold's, and Daisy's birthday (They're triplets). They were now 4 years old, and Alfred had gone all out with presents this year, especially for the children. There were about 13 kids to buy presents for this christmas, not to mention the adults.

Julius and Byron were sitting closest to the fire, even though Davie had asked a numerous amount of times to move away. Byron had his head against Julius's as they read from a picture book. Julius was well beyond Byron in reading comprehension, but for the other's sake, Julius would only read children's books around his friend. Alfred grinned, Byron was Julius's best friend, and vice versa. Of course Julius wouldn't spend the time of day with the noble kids, but he went out of his way to make himself available to Byron. Alfred thanks god for the day Duke stumbled into their lives.

They song psalms, happy birthday, and they passed out presents, none of which were opened until they were in their own bed chambers. The adults decided to let the grown kids have a sleep over in Julius's room, who didn't mind as long as Byron stayed.

~~~Wounded Knight~~~

 **4 months later...**

 **April**

"Happy birthday mommy!" Julius, Micah and Desdemona yelled, hugging his semi conscious body. He kissed them each on the nose before turning to face his husband. He kissed Alfred's on the forehead until he woke up, groggily saying happy birthday.

"C'mon, a little more energy won't kill you." He teased, the king kissing the brit's glands.

"Happy birthday sweetie. How old are you know, 50?"

"Yep." He sat up, getting ready for the day. He had received another package from Fulgur, Arthur smiling at the box at the foot of his bed. Smudge licked his hand, in his own way of saying happy birthday. "Hey boy." He said as he patted his head. He excused himself as he entered the bathroom. He was 23 years old today, he smiled as he slipped into the bath. As he marinated in the water, Alfred slipped into the bathroom yawning. He kissed Arthur once again before brushing his teeth. "Are you working today?" The brit asked. Alfred shook his head, spitting out his tooth paste.

"I'm giving myself the day off." He undressed, Arthur whistling as he made room in the spacious bath tub. The king struck a pose before slipping in himself, taking Arthur's lips in a deep kiss. A kiss which quickly turned heated. The king grabbed the queen's thighs and spread them, the brit moaning loudly, forcing himself to remember.

"Where are the kids?" The king smirked.

"Already left to have breakfast." The brit sighed.

"Carry on, then."

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

 **2 months later...**

 **June**

Julius had just turned 6 years old and he was already dealing with relationship problems. Alfred and Julia could barely contain their laughter as Julius and Byron argued. Marigold had given him a kiss on the cheek, you know, because she was the princess and Julius was the prince. But Byron was having none of that, no he wasn't. After the game had ended, and Marigold and Daisy started playing with blocks, Byron stuck his tongue out at Julius, who ignored it. That only made things worse, the 4 year old resorting to the cold shoulder. Julius hadn't noticed at first until he tried to share his apple slices with Byron, who didn't respond.

The adults left them unattended for a few moments, curious as to what would happen if they left. After 10 minutes of dilly dallying, Julia and Alfred returned, only to see Byron crying, and Julius patting his back uncomfortably. Julius looked annoyed and a little remorseful, though he looked as if he hadn't yet realized his mistake. "I hate you." Byron had said to Julius before breaking down into tears, the 6 year old told the adults.

"I should be the one upset, if anything." He mumbled. Julia chuckled.

"Make him feel better. Give him a kiss on the cheek like you did Marigold." Julius shook his head.

"He hates me." He said sadly.

"I'm sure he doesn't mean that." Alfred assured. Julius sighed, getting on his knees and leaning into his friend's face. He stopped half an inch away.

"Privacy?" He shot the adults, who snickered as they left. Alfred turned around in time for Julius to kiss Byron quickly on the cheek, only to repeat the gesture dozens of times in order to successfully stop the other from crying. By the time Julia and Alfred got back to their bench in the courtyard, Byron was a pile of giggles, kissing Julius back as many times he could.

~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~

 **4 years later**

 **October**

The couple panted as Arthur rolled off of his alpha, completely satisfied. The twins were in that annoying phase of walking into their room unannounced, so the couple really had the dead of night to have sex. Julius, thank god, had left that phase once he had met Byron. They have been spending some nights helping the children cope with their abilities, you know, since they are half witch, half lycan. Julius was completely human, as far as they knew, it was their biological kids that needed to be taught. Arthur would say he was pretty good at magic, though he only practiced with Chancy once a week in the middle of the night for the last 3 years. The twins were about six years old, showing promising signs of magical efficiency. Desdemona appeared to favor fire a little more, whereas Micah dealt more with nature, like Arthur. As for shifting into a wolf, so far Des was the only successful twin, Micah, at most, can make his eyes glow.

His thoughts were interrupted by soft snoring, the queen smiling. Perhaps he should go to bed.

That morning when he woke up, Alfred had already went to his office, the brit heading to the bathroom to freshen up. He, the twins, Anya and Geoffrey were going to have a picnic in the queen's garden. Chancy was working today, as was Davie, and the brit, though he also had an array of duties, had more free time to spend with the kids. When he passed by his niece's and nephew's room, Chancy and Davie both struggled to get the pair out of the door, the two apparently having an argument.

"You're so stupid!" Anya hissed, Geoffrey rolling his eyes. Their dark wild curls fell onto their faces as they argued. Anya was practically a carbon copy of her mother, with the exception of their hair color, Anya taking after Davie. She was a little chubby, but it did little to take from her prettiness. Geoffrey growled.

"And you're a hippo!" Geoffrey spat. His green eyes were hot as watched his younger sister get angrier. Though he was adopted, he looked a bit like his parents. He had Chancy's nose, and Davie's thick eyebrows. He was tan like his father, yet, personality wise, he a little more calculating, little more like his mother. The frenchman snapped.

"Stop it. Apologize to each other!" He ordered, the two instantly mumbling the phrase. Both busy parents gave them a kiss on the cheek, Chancy waving Arthur goodbye, and Davie patting the brit on the back as he left in the opposite direction. The twins were already setting up the picnic, the queen grabbing hold of his niece's and nephew's hand and began to walk.

"Why were you two fighting? Maybe I can help?"

"She keeps hiding the crosses." Geoffrey told, the girl shaking her dark hair in dissent.

"It isn't me." She shouted. "It's him! I saw him playing with them last night." Geoffrey scoffed.

"Funny, 'cuz I saw you with them last night." Arthur glanced at the boy in time to see his emerald eyes flicker with rage, before the flames died instantaneously. Anya could do that as well, suppress her anger long enough to get somewhere isolated. It Arthur years to learn that skill, yet at 6 and 7, they were doing it with ease. Geoffrey sighed. "You're such a liar, like, you could do it competitively." His voice was sincere, which shocked Arthur and his niece. Geoffrey's assault didn't stop there. "But I'm not like Dad, I won't be fooled by your long lashes." It was a common phrase Geoffrey made, the 'long lashes' remark. Anya looked like a doll, and with her long lashes, she looked incredibly cute, so cute it would be impossible to ever see her in a negative light, or to question her honesty. Geoffrey, though he was treated like his sister, felt cheated because, how did he put it last time, oh yes, he had to 'earn their trust.' The word were a little too bizarre coming out of a 7 year old's mouth.

"Oh shut up." Anya hissed. "The only liar here is you." She looked disinterested in the conversation, her eyes cast to the left, unbothered. "And you wonder why I'm their favorite." Arthur gasped, looking at Geoffrey who rolled his eyes.

"Dad did even call you by your name today. He called you 'You' all morning. I think as their first- er- oldest child, I am always their top priority, especially since you're stupid." Anya chuckled.

"'You, did you remember to comb your hair?'" Her voice was deeper as she mocked her father, Geoffrey chuckling.

"'You, stop throwing things!'" Geoffrey added, also mocking Davie. The children laughed wildly, Arthur internally groaning. Once they made to the picnic area and met up with the twins, it was as if the siblings hadn't even faught. Arthur rolled onto his side as he heard the kids laugh, Desdemona remaining by his side, not yet finished with her muffin.

"Where's Julius?" Des asked, Arthur humming.

"I don't think he's coming. He's busy nowadays."

"He's ten." She said flatly, setting down her muffin. "He's probably with Byron." Arthur nodded.

"But you're with your friends as well, it's fair." Arthur said softly, Des shaking her mop of waist length blonde curls wildly. Her almond shaped green eyes glanced around the field, watching the other kids play. Her nose was slim, she had huge brows and her skin was fair, like Arthur's, but that's where the similarities stopped. She had Alfred's heart-shaped lips, and his slightly pointed ears. She got his dimples, his tan freckles, and his cynical smirk. Micah, who was currently playing in the grass, also had a mop of blond curly hair, but his was much shorter, stopping at his chin. His ears were also pointed, his blue eyes were exactly the same as Alfred's, and his sun-kissed skin was something that truly told him apart from his sister. His nose was also slim, and he had also been blessed to have Arthur's eyebrows. He had no dimples, however, and he shared Arthur's longs lips and lashes. When the little boy turned and saw his mother watching him, he waved .

Arthur waved back, nudging his daughter.

"Go play now, I didn't take you out here for no reason." He smiled, and she did too. She ran off, joining Anya in a race against Geoffrey.

After a couple of hours, Arthur felt someone watching them, looking around cautiously. Arthur's eyes finally landed by the balcony just above them. Julius watched them with disinterested eyes as he nibbled on a cookie. His silky smooth blonde hair was pulled back into a low bun, and he was wearing... what was he wearing? Just then the doors to the third floor balcony were pulled open to reveal Alfred, face contorted into that of confusion and slight disappointment. What was going on? The two exchanged some words, Alfred raising his voice slightly, and the 10 year old boy stormed back into the building. Arthur made a note to ask later.

* * *

 **1 week later...**

 **Alfred POV**

"Make sure you brush your hair before bed." He told Julius as they left the stables. His son looked up at him before turning away, uncomfortable. What? "Are you okay?" He shook his head.

"No, not really." he mumbled, the king waiting for him to elaborate. Julius looked up at his father once more. "Grandma keeps telling me I won't be crown prince anymore." Alfred rolled his eyes. "She says it's cause I'm adopted." Alfred patted his shoulder. "And because I'm a bad alpha."

"Ignore her, please. She's bitter. And old." He started. "You are crown prince, when we adopted you, you became our heir." He assured. "And you aren't a bad alpha. I mean, yeah it's a little weird to wear dresses, and curl your hair... but that doesn't make you less alpha, it's in your being, it's your status, why would you be anything else?" Alfred laughed, His son awkwardly walking beside him, crossing his chest.

"I don't have a problem with not being crowned." he said flatly. "It would make more sense with Micah being crowned because he is blood. I'm not."

"Nonsense."

"All I'm saying is keep your options open." Alfred suddenly felt a wave of sickness. Was he saying what he thought he was saying?

"Do you not want the crown?" He asked, his frustration evident.

"Of course I do!" Julius whipped around to face his father sternly, Alfred sighing in relief. "I'm just saying, I wouldn't be upset if what grandma was saying was true." Alfred shook his head, pulling his son in for a bear hug.


	47. Chapter 47

**Alright Guys... this is it, the last chapter. I would like to thank all of you for sticking with me for as long as you have, and for leaving such helpful reviews on my posts. This has been a wild ride, and after more than a year I'm proud to say my story is complete. Obviously, with the way this chapter ended, there will be a sequel. Also, sorry for the long wait, I was contemplating whether or not to write a next chapter. I decided against it. That being said, it isn't perfect, and I will be taking a break from writing fanfics, but that doesn't take away from the fact that we finally made it to the end.**

 **Also, spoiler alert: Not so happy ending...**

 **Again, thank you all so much, and I love all of you!**

 **7 years later...**

 **Julius's POV**

He sat still as he father inspected his wound, a large gash on his thigh caused by a lance jutting into his leg while jousting. You have to be at least 19 years old to officially start jousting under a mentor, but Julius was 17 years old.

"I thought you knew you're too young to do this." The king muttered, ignoring when the door flew open dramatically. The queen had his hair cut into a messy bob, his large green eyes wet and worried. The queen hadn't aged since the moment Julius had met him, and neither had the king. He stumbled in breathlessly, rushing over to the blond child, placing a hand on his forehead. Julius leaned into the cool touch, his mother kissing the top of his head.

"What happened?"He asked softly, but Julius had a feeling he already knew. The 17 year old shrugged. Arthur pulled away and folded his arms across his chest. "Don't be difficult." He said sternly, the boy sighing.

"I didn't want to wait two more years." he groaned, the king opening the door for Davie. Warm Indigo eyes looked over the room. Arthur hummed.

"For what?"

"To joust." Davie set down his med kit, analyzing the other's wound. "It's definitely from a lance. How could you be so reckless? Were you there alone?" Julius nodded. Davie sighed, cleaning off the wound. In the meanwhile, Alfred and Arthur were whispering to each other hoarsely, obviously about his recent behavior. Within the last 2 months, this was the 14th time Julius had done something reckless, but the 1st to actually wound him. Blue eyes focused on his parents's mouths, trying to read them. "Julius." His uncle mumbled, getting his attention.

"Yes." He said softly.

"What's been going on with you? Geoffrey told me about this morning..." Davie trailed off quietly, so the other two adults couldn't hear them. The 17 year old squeezed his eyes shut, swearing internally.

"It's a long story, but it was all Geoffrey's fault." He deadpanned, Davie smirking.

"Funny, he said the same thing." He chuckled, sewing up the cut on his leg. "But you boys shouldn't have been out there in the woods so early, something could have happened." Julius blushed, something did happen. Nothing awful, but something great. Something controversial, something powerful. "Throwing pebbles at his neck is one thing, but wrestling out there is another. Julius, please be responsible. You both only came out with a few scrapes and bruises, but if something serious were to happen, no one would have known where you guys were."

"I'm sorry." He said simply, Davie patting his knee before standing up.

"All clear. He just needs to keep it clean and not disturb it." He turned, the royals sighing. Davie hadn't aged since Julius had met him either, which is wild, because the man was almost 37 years old. The queen himself was turning 35, and the king had just turned 33. Don't even get him started on Uncle Chancy. Were these people frozen in time? Arthur glared at him.

"Do you have any excuses this time?" he snapped, Julius hanging his head down, his long blond hair resting past his shoulders. His long lashes fluttered as he thought up an excuse. He scratched his freckled cheek, and scrunched his narrow nose.

"No, not this time. I fucked up." he said bluntly, Alfred smirking.

"Well, as long as you know that." He chuckled, walking over to his son. "What's been going on with you lately? Are you sure you're okay?" Julius smiled warmly at his father.

"I'm sorry that I've been so troublesome. I'll do my best to stay out of trouble." Julius had an English accent, developed after years of emulating the queen, and no longer being able to speak any other way. Alfred patted his back.

"Unfortunately, I don't believe you one bit." Alfred said coldly. "From now on, since you can't exactly train with a wounded leg, you'll be kept in this room for all hours of the day except dinner, bible study, and tutoring. When you do leave the room, you'll be supervised by either Arthur and I, or some guards." Julius winced, but he didn't argue.

"Yes, father." He looked up to see his father's eyes flash from annoyed to satisfied. Alfred was always particularly happy when his kids didn't talk back. "Will I be allowed guests?"

"Of course." There was a sudden knock on the door before it swung open without invitation. Geoffrey and Byron walked in, swords at their hips, smirking at their friend.

"So it is true?" Bryon laughed, grabbing onto Geoffrey's shoulder. "You rode your horse into a tree!?" Geoffrey snorted as Byron doubled over in glee. Julius couldn't help but smirk, the situation was quite comical. Arthur, however, didn't find it very funny.

"Why are you two laughing?" He snapped, the children silencing themselves. "He could've died, you idiots." He grabbed them both by their ears, sending them into a fit of giggles. Arthur huffed, not seeing what was so funny, and appeared to be getting angrier. Julius cleared his throat.

"Mom..." He started, the queen turning to him with heated eyes. "You have to admit, it's kind of funny." He smiled, his friends chuckling, and even his uncle snickered a bit. His parents, however, were not amused, and stared at him like he was a mad man. Arthur released the other's ears and clenched his fist, visibly shaking. He turned around and left the room without a word, his father following soon after, leaving the three teens and Davie alone in the room. The dark haired adult tilted his head formally before going, Byron heading to follow him before stopping.

"Aren't you coming?" He asked Geoffrey, who had made his way to a chair beside Julius. He shook his head, the omega shrugging before walking out of the room. "Just don't be late." Geoffrey hummed, Julius groaning.

"Don't." The prince said sharply, the 15 year old patted his back.

"You are an idiot." He retorted after a long pause. His brown curls were kept short around his ears, and his green eyes surveyed the room. Though he was two years younger, he was a little bit bigger than Julius in all dimensions. He was taller by a few inches, far more muscular, tanner, broader... Julius shivered. That bastard. Julius himself stood at around his aunt Chancy's height, around 5 feet and 6 inches. Geoffrey was around 5 feet and 11 inches, and he was still growing.

"I know." He said sourly, Geoffrey grabbing his hand. Julius didn't react on the outside, but his pulse definitely picked up. He looked to the side, heat crawling to his face. "Our parents could barge in any minute, yet you're just holding my hand." He snapped, Geoffrey snickering.

"We did a lot more this morning." Julius tensed up before relaxing, laughing a little too. "Did my dad tell you my excuse?" Julius smirked.

"I threw pebbles at your neck, then we wrestled. God he couldn't have fell for that!" Geoffrey began to laugh heartily before leaning in and pressing a hard kiss to the other's forehead.

"To be fair, I was pretty beaten up, you can hardly control yourself." He criticised, smiling. Julius rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'm the one with the sore ass, so." He turned to the other and kissed him gently on the lip. Geoffrey kissed him back before pulling away.

"Why did you ride your horse into the tree?" He asked. "You've jousted before, and you've never gotten hurt."

The prince shrugged. The whole accident was actually really bizarre. He was riding the horse along the training grounds when he had lost track of time, and scheduled practices were about to start. He had stopped the horse, and was about to get off, but something spooked the horse, and he went running. Julius pulled on the reins and tried to calm him down, but the horse wasn't responding. In fact, it actively avoided the fence around the training ground, and the shrubs lining the forest. It was almost as if it were aiming for the tree. It hadn't gotten hurt, in fact, it had just flung Julius, with his lance, into the tree and kept running. Geoffrey cleared his throat, the prince realizing he had gotten lost in his thoughts. "Er-yes... I really don't know what happened. The horse was spooked, and took off. I was just thrown off and collided with my lance." The younger frowned before pulling the prince in for another kiss.

"Alright."

* * *

 **1 week later...**

Julius cuddled into his mother's side, resting his head on his shoulder. Arthur stroked his hair as he sniffled into his tissue, Julius whispering softly. "Mom, I'm so sorry." His voice was heavy, as if he were close to tears as well. Arthur groaned, probably in physical pain. "Please let me call Davie." Julius begged, but his mother hushed him. They were currently in Julius's bedroom, in his bed with a few towels underneath them. The day had started off with them chatting, but then suddenly, Arthur rushed to the bathroom. After a few minutes, Julius opened the door to find his mother sitting in a pool of blood, sobbing silently. He was pregnant, for the third time since the twins were born, and this was the third time he had suffered through a miscarriage. Julius washed him off very quickly and rushed him into a change of clothes, a loose blouse, and tucked him into his bed.

He had never seen his mother so devastated. He had only heard of the other two miscarriages from his father the day after it had happened, and he wouldn't have been able to see his mother until about a week after. He had never witnessed his mother in a such an agonizing situation, and his heart ached knowing he couldn't do anything about it. Arthur shifted his body so his face was buried into his son's chest.

"H-he'll t-tell Alfred." He mumbled miserably. He began to cry again, and Julius began to wonder how many times this had actually happened to his mom. The last miscarriage happened a year and a half after the first one, and that was nearly 8 years ago. Julius knew that since then they were always trying to have a baby, but what if the problem wasn't conception, just maintenance? What if the queen had gotten pregnant many times, but just lost it before he could tell anyone? Julius's eyes began to water as he took a shaky breath in, running his hands through his mother's hair. They were in this position for about an hour and a half, the teen unsure if his mother was still leaking, and whether or not he was uncomfortable.

"Did dad know you were pregnant?" He asked softly, Arthur slowly shaking his head.

"I only found out a week ago." He sighed. He had calmed down quite a bit, and sniffled occasionally. "It was about a month along." The pain in his voice was enough to have Julius's eyes water once again, but he needed to be strong for his mother. "But no, I was gonna tell him when I was three months." Julius quirked a brow.

"Why three months?" He asked, and Arthur looked up at him with puffy, dull eyes.

"After the first trimester, chances of miscarriage drops greatly." He explained. His lips began to tremble as his eyes watered up again. "But I never make it to three months." Julius hushed him.

"It's no one's fault. There was nothing anyone could do." He assured, but the queen began to cry anyway, and this time out loud, very loudly.

"W-why does this keep on h-happening to me?!" He practically shrieked, Julius flinching away slightly. "How many times do I need to go through this?!" Julius tucked his head underneath his head and commanded him to breathe.

"In and out." Arthur followed his advice and took audible breaths, Julius repeating "in and out."

* * *

 **2 days later...**

Arthur was still pent up in Julius's room, cancelling the prince's schedule for the day once again. Julius wasn't complaining, he wanted to stick by his mother's side, but his dad would be returning tonight from his little business trip to Canada. Arthur was currently staring blankly at the ceiling as Julius recited some prayers out loud for the lost child, he figured it would bring peace to his mother. Every now and then food would be delivered by a maid, and Julius would have to force feed his mother.

When word arrived that his father had come home safely, Julius was excited, he had missed his father. But then dread had washed over him. Would he have to lie to his father? There would be no doubt that the king will ask where his queen was, seeing that he was always the first to greet him when he returned from a trip. Once he learned that he was with his son, wouldn't he be curious as to why? Julius was getting nervous. "Mom?" He asked, the queen not responding. The prince glanced over at his mother to see him just barely looking at him through his swollen eyes. "Should we tell dad?" Arthur slowly looked away, back to the ceiling. Julius stroked his mother's hair, the queen, despite his expressionless demeanor, leaned into it. "I don't know if I should lie." Arthur remained silent. There was a knock on the door, and Julius could feel the presence at the back of his head. It was dad.

"Are you guys gonna open up, or do I need to unlock it." From the tone of his voice, he probably knew something bad had happened. He probably felt the pain Arthur felt. Julius heard keys jingle, and soon the door was squeaking open. Alfred stepped in slowly, blue eyes analyzing the room. All the evidence of the incident had been removed by loyal maids who swore to secrecy, so Alfred wouldn't be able to find anything. He closed the door behind him and slowly made his way to his husband, who was still gazing up at the ceiling. "What happened?" He asked him softly, kneeling down so that his face was leveled with the other. The queen didn't respond in any way. The king waited there patiently for about ten minutes before Arthur finally acknowledged him.

"Pardon?"

Alfred stroked his cheek, kissing his hair. "What happened Artie?" Arthur scrunched up his nose.

"It's Arthur, not Artie. It's not as if we haven't known each other for more than a decade." He snapped softly, but the king wasn't phased. Instead, he looked up at Julius.

"What happened while I was away?" He asked, eyes penetrating Julius's resolve.

"I-uh we-er... I um... I don't know." He stumbled over his words, Alfred quirking a brow. Julius groaned, glancing down at his mother, who looked at him blankly. His mother didn't want anyone to know about this, and, despite how depressing the last two days were, he never felt closer to his mother. This could just be their little secret. But he needed an elaborate lie, a lie that was big enough to elicit such a reaction from his mother, or at least his father. "H-he had c-caught me with..." he trailed off, blushing, where was he going with this?! He looked away scared, Alfred interpreting it as a reaction of guilt.

"WHAT?! JULIUS WHAT DID YOU DO?" He jumped up and walked around the bed, standing over his son almost threateningly.

"I was wearing his clothes again, and I might have ripped the new one a bit." Arthur wouldn't have minded all too much, but his father would have gutted him like a fish if he were to have seen this play out. The way his father's eyes had darkened confirmed Julius's thoughts, and confirmed that he had fallen for it. In actuality Julius hadn't crossed dress in over 3 years after his father threatened him real bad. The king sat down on the bed, hands covering his face.

"I thought we agreed that you were an alpha, that you would start acting like one." He sighed, his voice getting angrier. Julius pursed his lip.

"I'm sorry. Mom and I talked, and I won't do it again." He said nervously.

"First you joust, then this... do you just want to burden me?" Alfred whispered to himself, but it was loud enough for Julius to hear. His heart felt like it was going to burst it has never beaten so fast. "Why are you so nervous?" The king asked the prince. Julius was shocked that he could tell, but he just shrugged. "I'm not mad or anything. God, what if someone else walked in one you!? A maid, a guard!? You would have been ousted!" he was raising his voice, Arthur finally hushing him.

"Stop yelling at our son like that!" He snapped, finally moving from his place and grabbing julius protectively. "There's no need for that, we've talked long and hard about this before your arrival, so please." He sounded extremely hostile, the king eyeing him briefly in shock, then confusion, and then annoyance. Arthur pursed his lips before speaking again. "I think you should return to your chambers... or conduct your business elsewhere. For the time being I'm going to council Julius." He commanded. The king stared at him blankly before releasing a hollow chuckle.

"God, I did not miss this." He sighed, standing up quickly. "I'll check on my more stable family members." He said sharply, Julius's eyes watering at the venom behind his words.

"Dad-"

"Let him go." Arthur advised. The king closed the door behind himself softly, leaving the pair in silence.

* * *

 **5 days later...**

"I don't know, Des, ask Jules." Micah shrugged as he took a bite into his apple. His shaggy blonde hair was covered in hay, and his squire attire was dirty. Desdemona huffed, his red cheeks puffing out in annoyance.

"Jules!" She called, Julius looking down from the tree he was perched on. They were in the courtyard, having a mini sibling picnic. He didn't really want to interact with them though, so he was eating his sandwich in the old sugar maple they were sitting underneath. He groaned as he heard his sister call. He had heard their exchange of words, and he knew what she was about to ask him. Gosh, this was going to be fun.

"Yes." He muttered, not looking down at her.

"Have you ever gotten a rut?" She asked bluntly, not caring how inappropriate the question was. However, after 13 years, he was used to it.

"No, not yet." He replied. She scoffed.

"Are you sure? Micah had his last month, and I heard Geoffrey had his 2 months back." She informed. Julius knew this information already, he could smell the pheromones very sharply when they had.

"Mom says I'm just a late bloomer." He said calmly. She hummed, taking that answer, satisfied.

"What time of month do you shift?" She asked suddenly, followed by Micah hushing her with his finger. Julius glanced down in shock. They knew?! His heart rate began to skyrocket. He hadn't worn any woman's clothes in three years, unless his little lie had turned into a rumor? Julius shook his head. He was always careful about not letting his siblings find out, how did they know? Julius paused to take a deep breath. Shift? She called it shift? That's a little rude isn't it? It wasn't some transformation, it was a temporary thing, a brief change, a superficial one at that. Julius had no intention of being a woman, women's clothes just making him feel more docile, like a beta, or sometimes even an omega. It wasn't that big of a deal.

"Shift?" He snapped. She remained silent. "What did you mean by shift?" After an awkward silence she sighed.

"You do shift into a wolf, right? Daddy said you just do it on a different schedule than we do." She confessed, worry in her voice. Julius knit his eyebrows. She sounded truthful, but damn was she making no sense. He chuckled at his own worries a bit, finding it truly hilarious that he thought they knew of his practices, well old practices anyway. She scrunched up her nose when she heard him chuckle. "What's so funny?"

"Humans can't turn into dogs, Dezzy." He said softly. He was genuinely amused that his father would play along. She smiled up at him, blushing and laughing.

"Sure."

* * *

Arthur gave Alfred a quick peck on the cheek as they watched their children from the balcony. Alfred stiffened before he sighed.

"They still don't know, huh?" He asked, Arthur smiling sadly.

"As far as they know, they think he's their biological brother." The queen sadly relayed. The royals were always planning on telling the twins that Julius was adopted, and therefore had no magical or supernatural abilities, but one day when the twins were 3, Julius had asked them to not tell them, that he had wanted to tell them himself when he felt the moment was right. The king had ordered that not a single person was allowed to even mention the adoption of Julius, to basically pretend Julius was birthed by the royals. Of course that made no sense in the timeline, but the twins had no interest in their parent's love story. All they cared about was magic and shifting, which Arthur specifically remembered banning the subject of magic from discussions with Julius. He figured one of the twins brought it up, probably Desdemona. Julius still has no idea about it, and Arthur had no intention of ever letting him know.

"Oh, yeah." Alfred cleared his throat, shaking his sandy blond hair. His thin wired glasses rested lazily on his hair, functioning as a bandana pinning back his bangs. He smiled sadly before sighing. "I overheard some maids speaking this morning." He started, the brit humming in curiosity. "Mom isn't getting any better." He frowned, the queen grabbing his hand and holding it. The queen-mother had fallen terminally ill a little over a year and a half ago, and about 6 months ago she was taken to Canada for treatment. That's why Alfred had gone to Canada a couple of days ago, to visit his mother. From Alfred's description, the woman was a shell of herself; her skin was pale, her eyes were sealed with crust, and her dry lips were stained orange. She was about 2/3rds of her original weight now, and the doctor had no idea what the disease was. Alfred wasn't surprised, even Davie's never come across the symptoms.

He tilted his head, frowning. He had come to terms that his mother would be passing away soon, so he was just bracing himself for the devastation that would be crashing into him. He had sent for her and her doctor to stay at the castle until her passing, that way he could say a proper goodbye. Alfred sighed again. "It's not about me." Alfred said mostly to himself. "They're gonna lose their grandmother." He gazed down at their children, who were now bouncing around the courtyard, laughing.

"I know. The twins will be devastated. I can't even imagine how Micah will react." Arthur groaned. Alfred nodded. Micah and the queen-mother were by far the closest, and their was no doubt this was going to be tough for him. "Julius... he's mature now, he'll cope." Arthur added, but there were hints of doubt in his voice. Alfred knew why, and he was almost certain that his oldest wouldn't shed a tear. The queen-mother had treated him like a guest ever since the twins were born, and their was no doubt that the prince resented her for that. Alfred was grateful that he never held any animosity for his younger brother, the two were practically best friends. He looked down at Julius, who was getting pinned down by the twins.

"Hopefully he'll at least pretend to care." He grumbled. "He's a sweet boy, but he's too blunt." Arthur hummed.

"All of our kids are... a little blunt." Arthur could think of numerous occasions where their children threw their manners out of the window and spoke brashly to international leaders. Micah once told King Ivan of Russia that he looked like he had crawled out of the devil's ass. Alfred was laughing hysterically, but luckily it was just a private get together between the US and Russia. Gilbert found it hilarious, and mocked his husband about it for the rest of the night. Ivan hadn't taken offense to it though, he accepted it as a genuine critique, which made Arthur appreciate the Russian more. Desdemona... oh god the mouth on that child. She would walk up to anyone and ask them very inappropriate questions. She walked up to a young nun once and asked her why her ankles were so fat. She walked up to a crippled knight with one leg and told him to join the navy so he could pretend to be a pirate. She also sent a letter to Fulgur demanding he send her a unicorn, the salvatore instead sending her a light brown pony. She asked questions that were typical of her age, which Arthur appreciated. He didn't have to worry about her growing up too fast.

As for Julius, he would pick and choose when to be rude, which was why it made Arthur all the more furious when he would do it. As the crown prince, Julius was handed the respect of the people, but over the last 13 years, he had gained their favor in what Arthur considered unsavory ways. He would occasionally make speeches calling out public figures who he felt were frauds or criminals, and he would urge citizens to bring up a suit. Arthur was surprised that all of the nobles and bankers Julius had accused were actually guilty, but it didn't negate the fact that his tactics could easily lead to unrest. What if he calls out the wrong person one day? Honestly Arthur feared for the boy. Especially nowadays. He was grateful to his son helping him throughout his miscarriage, but he was putting himself in constant unnecessary risk, and he didn't even care. It's as if his health is secondary to him. Arthur rubbed his temples.

"Not as bad as... 'They'." Alfred offered, and Arthur nodded with a shudder.

He was referring to Geoffrey and Anya, their niece and nephew. Those kids were perhaps the most conniving, twisted, and manipulative people he had ever come across. They fear no one, with the exception of their parents, and will stop at nothing to get what they want. The two were gifted, Anya with her mother's magical ability. She was much farther ahead of Desdemona in her studies, Anya taking witchcraft much more seriously. Geoffrey, though he too doesn't know he's adopted, looks quite a bit like Davie, and shares some quirks with Chancy, so he fits right in comfortably. Personality wise, Arthur would have to say they took it from their mother. Don't get him wrong, he loved Chancy, and Chancy was sweet heart, but as the French ambassador, in meetings, he always had his way, be it through smooth talking, or straight up threats. That being said, Chancy only acted like that in meetings, at home, he was passive and pretty much let Davie do much of the decision making. They accompanied him to these meetings for much of their youth, which explains things, but still.

Geoffrey was straight up bat shit crazy. He was handsome, and he was built strong like Davie. He was a powerhouse in training, and he knew that. He held nothing back on the training grounds, and would often send squires to the infirmary. He could beat up grown knights and would publicly challenge them and defeat, stripping away their honor. Alfred had threatened to take away his squirhood, but Geoffrey literally laughed in his face, and proceeded to say this: 'I know it's hard to see your comrades fall at the hands of your best friend's son, but I assure you, your majesty, taking away my birthright won't stop me.' Arthur had almost choked when Alfred had told him about the meeting, and Chancy begged the king to forgive him. The Frenchman had talked to him of course, and he had stopped challenging knights, but he hadn't apologized to the king for his rude words. Instead, he had began to silently challenge the king through Julius. There was no doubt in his mind that Geoffrey was behind Julius's strange behaviour recently. Arthur just wished he knew how.

He glanced down once again at his children, and to his dismay they were joined by the devil children. Fortunately Byron and his sisters had also came along. Those three were the most positive children he had ever met, so full of respect and grace. Arthur genuinely loved them. Don't get him wrong, he loved Anya and Geoffrey too, when they weren't plotting something, they were great to be around and talk to. They were sophisticated and wise for their age, which probably helped fuel their initial issues. Geoffrey, for one, was very well versed in public affairs and he was always a valued opinion. Anya loved tutoring Micah and Desdemona in magic, and the palace wards in basic math and reading. They were good kids when they weren't out to ruin lives.

Arthur could hear Alfred huff as Julius, Geoffrey and Byron left the courtyard, of course after kissing their sisters goodbye. Arthur always found that cute, how Julius would always leave a kiss on Des' forehead, and ruffle up Micah's hair. Geoffrey did the same to Anya, and Byron to his sisters. Alfred pulled away from the railing of the balcony, returning inside the castle.

"Do you have a meeting?" Arthur asked, he king shaking his head.

"I want to know what they're doing. He's still under punishment." Arthur sighed.

"Well, don't get yourself caught. I'll stay up here and watch the kids play." The queen felt warm lips press against his cheeks. "Have fun playing spy."

"I will Artie. I will."


	48. Chapter 48

**Hey guys, I know, I know, it's been a while. I came to alert you guys that I have just uploaded a sequel to this story Titled: the Scorned King. To say the least, it's interesting, and to give you a little taste, I'll give a little preview.**

 _Slowly yet surely Dominic came too, rubbing his eyes as he sat up, body covered in love-bites and scratches. Gilbert gagged and Alfred laughed, clapping. It was hilarious, the bothered look in Ivan's eyes as his only heir groaned. "What now?" He asked tiredly with a surprisingly well concealed Russian accent. "Haven't you heard of knocking? We're in the land of the free, you can't barge around like you own anything while we're here." Ivan huffed at him, and Alfred continued to snicker. He liked this kid. "And who are those bozos behind you, hah? S.S, da?" His dull purple eyes glared at the American monarchs lazily._

 _There was a groan from underneath the covers, dainty a hand peeking out from the covers. "Who are you talking too?" Said a hoarse voice, and just then a sickening feeling shot up Alfred's and Arthur's spine. They stood their quietly before turning to face each other, eyes flashing in fear and rage. Alfred pushed past the Russians to the side of the concealed second party. If God loved him, he wouldn't let this be who he thought it would be. He crouched down to his knees before clearing his voice, humming, the body under the covers growing rigid._


End file.
